


the open window

by ectocooler, mainshock



Category: Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Character Study, Christmas, Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-25 20:48:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17128481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ectocooler/pseuds/ectocooler, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mainshock/pseuds/mainshock
Summary: ‘Star, Ric, the Brooklyn apartment, and the first Christmas they ever spent there.





	1. Chapter 1

‘Star is determined. Swaddled in his his winter jacket and scarf, he only has one goal in mind as he trudges through the supermarket past all of the people in their similar dress, shopping carts in tow. He didn’t bother to take a cart of his own, in fact, he didn’t even grab a basket. He was too excited to get to the back. To get to the cooler with all of the dairy products and find those little white cartons with the bright red bows and holly on them. 

It’s eggnog season. And ‘Star doesn’t know when he got so excited about that and Christmas, but he certainly has. It’s only December 1st. 

“So are you, like, hoarding those? Have we got some kinda underground bunker you haven't told me about yet?” Ric is at his side, as usual, and joking, as usual. “Man, I knew I shouldn't have let you binge-watch _Doomsday Preppers_.” And then he's smiling at him, gentle, the way he used to do when 'Star didn't quite get his jokes. “Can I carry some of that for you, hot stuff? You look like you need a hand.”

“Are you flirting with me or making fun of me?” ‘Star asks him. He’s still got a smile on his face despite Ric’s teasing. “I will have you know that we would be far more prepared for the end of the world than anyone on that ridiculous television program. Even without eggnog.” He places a carton in Ric’s hand and turns back to grab a few more. “They only sell this for a month. It would be a wasted opportunity if I only bought a single carton.”

“Can't I flirt and make jokes at the same time?” Ric nudges him aside with his hip, reaching for the next row of cartons. 'Star notices that they're beginning to attract quite a few stares from passers-by. He has no doubt that Ric has noticed too, but Ric doesn't seem to care. “Seriously, let me at least carry some of it.” 

“People should understand how to be festive. I am slightly concerned no one else seems to be interested in gathering holiday beverages.” ‘Star hands Ric two other cartons, but still has an arm full of his own. “I should have gotten a basket.”

“We can come back,” Ric reassures him, slowly disappearing behind the tall stack of cartons 'Star is placing in his arms. “Or we can hit up another store, see if they've still got any left. Don't worry, man. I've got you covered.”

“I think twelve will do for now. It will last at least two weeks. We will need to come back at a later date to get more for the rest of the month.” ‘Star doesn’t quite remember when he had eggnog for the first time, but like any other food item he’s grown to enjoy, Ric makes sure not to scold him about it. He can’t say as much for the other patrons at the grocery store they frequent.

“I remember when you said you didn't like this stuff,” Ric says. “And now you're all about it. What changed?”

“Expectation versus reality. It is delicious despite its dubious origins and ingredients. An egg-based drink does not sound particularly appetizing, but Earth cuisine is often more than meets the eye.” ‘Star knows Ric isn’t of the same mindset as he is in regards to eggnog or any other type of sugary beverage he enjoys, but still. A true answer is a true answer. He shuffles past Ric, armful of cartons threatening to spill from his arms as he makes eyes at an adjacent isle. “Did we need anything else?”

“Uh…” Ric looks from one side of the aisle to the other, glancing at the milk, the bread, the eggs. “You know what? We can come back for the other stuff. Let's just get this stuff home.”

“Always full of good ideas.” ‘Star smiles at him, leans close and kisses him on the cheek. 

—

It’s snowier when they leave the store than it was when they went in. The sidewalks aren’t abandoned, but there is a quiet in the air that tells ‘Star that people have left the snowy streets in hopes to get home before they had difficulties doing so. He supposes he and Rictor are lucky that they only live a few blocks away. He holds his armful of shopping bags close, taking a deep breath of cold air and watching his breath as it puffs out, still warm against all the snowflakes. He thinks he likes it best like this, sparkling lights reflecting blue in a snow covered world. It’s so far removed from the sweltering yellow deserts and alkaline swamps of his home planet. ‘Star finds it hard believe that this is all real from time to time.

Ric’s voice cuts through the silence. “I probably shoulda put my gloves on before we walked out,” he laments through gritted teeth. He has both hands full, carrying shopping bags, and 'Star can see his bare hands peeking out past the cuffs of his thick leather jacket, knuckles turning pink with cold. “Or brought a backpack. Or… whatever. At least we're almost home.”

“Let’s walk,” ‘Star advises. He feels the cold on his cheeks despite his scarf, healing factor ramping up his body temperature to compensate. “I would not want you to get frostbite a block away from our house.” His boots crunch in the snow as he moves past Ric, flashing him a private smile before they continue on their way.

He likes this time of year a lot, and he likes it better when there's not so many people around to ruin it. 'Star enjoys the solitude, the quiet kind of magic that comes with walking along a snowy street in between strings of coloured lights, glancing into strangers’ windows and seeing decorated trees and lit candles and wondering about what goes on in their lives. He used to think life on earth must be terribly boring, and that the humans there must be the same. 

Now he knows he was wrong. The smallest, most mundane things can be the most interesting. He finds himself thinking a lot about other people, about what they do, what they care about, what they find meaning in. He's not disdainful, nor is he envious; he's just curious, interested. It's a big world out there. He wants to see it all, but sometimes he doesn't mind just looking at it through a window, from a distance.

Distracted, it takes him a few seconds to notice the absence of the sound of Ric's boots in the snow. When he looks back, Ric is standing under the awning on somebody's stoop a few doors back, rubbing his cold hands together, the shopping bags sitting in a half-circle around his feet.

“Sorry,” he calls out to 'Star. “I just need a second.”

“Are you alright?” It’s out of his mouth before he can stop it, trailing back over his own set of footprints as he makes his way back to where Ric is standing. “Sometimes I forget how cold it is.” He takes Ric’s hands in his, feeling the chill before squeezing them tightly. “This should help.”

There's this look that Ric gives him every now and then, not often, but often enough that 'Star recognizes it. It's the look he gets when 'Star catches him off guard with something - when he runs in to fight at his side, when he kisses him breathless, sometimes when he steps out of the shower without a towel. His eyes widen and his lips part in something close to awe and he's speechless if only for a second, and when his guard is down he lets 'Star in, lets him catch a glimpse of how he really feels about him. Ric looks at him as though he's the centre of the universe. It is… an honor, 'Star thinks, to be thought of so highly, though one he's not sure he's deserving of.

“I'm fine,” Ric mumbles, and the blush on his cheeks is half because of the cold, and half not. “It helps,” he adds, quieter.

“You will not be fine if you do not put your gloves on. Are they in your pocket? I can get them for you,” ‘Star tells him. He’s still staring at him, looking right into his eyes and holding his hands in his own. The stillness of the air around them makes him feel like they are the only people here. It’s nice and it helps him focus. “Just… give me a moment.” ‘Star breathes in the cold air again and when he exhales, he’s kissing Ric, pulling him close with their hands together. Two people together in a flurry of snowflakes.

He feels Ric melt under his lips, feels him give in to the kiss as though he's been waiting for it all night. It's so rare to see him so serious. Ric, when he's all raw emotion without the sarcasm and snide jokes to cover it, has an intensity that almost frightens him. He doesn't do anything by halves. 

It's something like a trust fall - he lets himself slip, and trusts 'Star to be there to catch him, lift him up, care for him the way he can only admit he needs through actions instead of words. He shows it in the way he lets 'Star kiss him - normally he's playful, teasing, bossy if he's in the right mood, but now he's quiet, gentle and soft. In a way, it shows that he needs it more. He lays himself bare, in a sense, and 'Star takes it upon himself to take care of him. To warm him up like he's doing right now.

‘Star doesn’t want to pull back, but he does, the warmth of it all seeming to ooze out between them. 

“Thank you for coming to the store with me,” ‘Star tells him, sincere as ever. Ric doesn’t have to do anything like this with him. Small tasks, all these normal human things. They must be so boring to him, but Ric always comes along without fail.

“Wouldn't miss it,” Ric mumbles. He seems dazed, like he entered some world of his own (or their own, 'Star thinks, shared) and wasn't quite ready to be snapped out of it. His hands are still in 'Star's, still cold, holding on tight. “Let's go home,” he says. His voice is small, somehow, like he's stripped away everything he uses to hide it with. “I need… I mean, I want…” He trails off, searching 'Star's face for his own answer, and then shakes his head. “Come on.”

'Star fishes Ric's gloves out of his pocket and waits for him to put them on. They pick up their bags, and walk on into the night.

\--

Back at their apartment, they turn the heat up so high that Ric ends up sweating when 'Star makes love to him. They shed their coats and boots at the door and everything else on the way to the shower, and now they're tangled in the covers of their bed, Ric splayed out on his back and 'Star leaning over him. He has one hand on the small of Ric's back, lifting his hips up so he can fuck him at just the right angle, slow enough to make his toes curl, deep enough to make him gasp and whimper and whine his name. 

His other hand is interlaced with Ric's, pinned to the bed beside the pillow, holding tight. They barely had to speak a word to each other - Ric's quiet when he's feeling this way, feeling vulnerable, but he has other ways of showing 'Star what he needs, letting him in so he can take care of him.

‘Star’s never been the best with words, but he’s always tried. Moments like this make it clear that he’s far more eloquent with his actions. He’s all over Ric and Ric feels like he can’t catch his breath, like he can’t even say a word. He lets ‘Star take the lead, lets him hold him tight and press those soft lips to his neck and his shoulders. He can feel himself unraveling, a jumble of messy threads draped across ‘Star’s capable hands. He’s always known how to work the knots out of him.

'Star watches Ric's eyelids flutter closed, eyelashes fanning out dark over his flushed cheeks. He hears him panting, sees him wipe at the sweat beading on his brow with the back of his hand. This whole time he's had that look on his face, not quite a smile but the promise of one. He looks tired, fixated, wrecked, awestruck. He looks relaxed and wound up all at once. He feels exquisite, tight enough that it's almost too good, but he yields to 'Star's every touch. 'Star holds himself back; he won't finish until Ric does, until he's satisfied - until he's better than satisfied. He wants Ric blissed out and exhausted. He wants to take his time.

“God, it's hot in here,” Ric speaks up for the first time in what feels like an hour. 'Star could stretch it to more if he wanted to. He thinks he might want to.

Ric reaches for the window by the bed, feeling for the handle. He might have found it if he were able to take his eyes off 'Star. “Can you -”

'Star pulls up the lock and pushes it open quickly, barely missing a beat. Ric gasps, drawing breath from a sudden rush of cool air, then grasping for 'Star's hand, pulling it back to where he had him before, pressed into the pillow. A flurry of feather-light snow swirls into the room, scattering across the both of them. It catches the light, pale and crystalline, every time Ric's chest rises with his breath.

‘Star thinks, not for the first time, that nothing is more perfect than the man beneath him. Julio is like a fissure in the earth, molten and alive even against the swirl of snow pushing its way into their room. Sometimes it feels dangerous to get so close, but ‘Star has never been one to shy away from danger. He quickens his pace suddenly, his climax bubbling hot in his stomach, hand on Ric’s hip moving to curl around his cock. His need rolls over him, slow and searing hot.

Ric clutches at the pillow, at the sheets, at him. He closes his eyes when his need overtakes him. His lips are parted and his face reads like an open book, raw, vulnerable desire written all over it. He arches his back when ‘Star comes hard inside him, lost in the perfect warmth of his body. He moans 'Star's name over and over and it's never sounded so good to ‘Star as it does on Ric's lips. 

He holds him through it all, leaning in almost close enough that their lips touch. They gasp the same air, share the heat that rolls off their skin, and when they're done 'Star whispers something against Ric's lips that Ric can only return as a hug, vice-tight, that he doesn't relax until he's caught his breath.

“I have you,” ‘Star murmurs into his ear, still holding Ric tight as Ric holds him. “I promise I won’t let you go.”

“I know,” Ric whispers back. His hands are steady. He trusts him. 'Star doesn't think he's ever been given a greater gift than that trust.

—

‘Star doesn’t remember exactly when he started having a bedtime routine, but he recalls it began sometime between getting an apartment and finally settling down in said apartment. Rictor helps, he thinks, just by being there, always calming and grounding even when he doesn’t think he’s anything. On the off chance his restlessness gets the better of him, ‘Star has started to channel it into much less violent activities if he doesn’t have the means to bloody a sword. It’s a balanced life he leads, or at least he’s beginning to think so. 

He’s currently sitting at the kitchen table, staring at a small ceramic Christmas tree that’s plugged into the an outlet nearby, its tiny lights glowing proudly in the darkness of the room. He’s not sure where this Christmas artifact came from, but he’s enamoured with it and the way its lights wink at him nonetheless. It’s dark outside, and he’s turned the living room lights off to enhance the effect.

“Where did this come from?” ‘Star calls out absently. He’s not even sure if Ric can hear him. 

“What?” Ric's voice is muffled from the shower. “You want ice cream?”

The bathroom door clicks open, and Ric walks out with one of 'Star's shirts on, threadbare and oversized, and his hair up in a towel. “Did you say you wanted ice cream?”

“I said, where did this come from?” 'Star corrects himself, gesturing at the ceramic tree. “And… do we have ice cream?” he asks, quietly hopeful.

“Uh-huh,” Ric says. “Mint chocolate chip?”

“Please,” 'Star says, sheepish but grateful. “And the tree?”

“Oh,” Ric says. His face is hidden behind the freezer door as he searches for the ice cream, but there's an odd, awkward quality to his voice. “Uh, my mom sent it.”

_Stepmother,_ 'Star reminds himself. Strange that Julio, who is technically an orphan and estranged from most of his kin, still has more contact with his family than 'Star does.

“Really?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Ric says. “She sent a bunch of other crap too… she's, uh, real Catholic and all, so it's all these candles and plastic figurines of saints and stuff. I kept most of it in the box, but I put the tree out 'cause I figured you'd like it.” He sets down a bowl of ice-cream in front of 'Star. There's a smiley face on the top of one scoop, drawn haphazardly in chocolate topping. “Do you like it?”

‘Star looks up from his ice cream, like in that moment he’d forgotten entirely about the tree, focused on Ric’s small gesture instead. “I love it.” He takes a second. “The ice cream and the tree.” His eyes finally flick up to meet Ric’s. “And you.” He likes to say it as often as possible. It’s important. “Would you mind if I looked through the box?” He takes a spoonful of ice cream and sighs happily to himself as he takes a bite, eyes still trained on Ric’s expression.

“Why?” Ric asks, before realizing how abrupt he sounds. He doesn't seem bothered; just confused, 'Star thinks. “I mean, go ahead. I don't have a problem with it. It's just - it's really just junk, you know?”

“I just thought I would like to see some of the other items. I have only been celebrating Christmas for a few years now, and I would like to understand everything I can about it. It can wait, however. Would you like to sit with me?”

Ric pulls out a chair and takes a seat beside 'Star, scooting closer to him until their knees are touching. “It's not really Christmas stuff,” Ric explains. “Not the fun kind - the boring religious kind. You don't have to worry about that.” He waits and watches while 'Star relays another spoonful of ice cream to his mouth. “But you like the tree? That's good. At least that package was good for something.”

“Did you know that the lights change color?” ‘Star slides his bowl aside for a moment and in the dim lights of the kitchen, he clicks the dial on the plug so the lights flash bright white from the tree. He clicks it again, and it resumes its previous colorful spectacle. “I know it does not seem like much, but I like it. It was a nice gift.”

It looks like something has clicked for Ric, too. “I’ll… I'll tell her you said so,” he says, as though the thought is only just occurring to him. “I think she'll be glad someone was into it. Thank you.”

“Is everything alright?” ‘Star feels something in the room shift a little and he pulls his ice cream bowl to himself subconsciously.

“Yeah,” Ric says, with the makings of a smile growing on his lips. “Yeah, I think everything's gonna be alright.”

—

It’s weird, Ric thinks. He doesn’t really think of him and ‘Star as _dating._ To him, they’re beyond that. Soulmates, if he believed in things like that (and ‘Star makes him want to believe). Boyfriends, definitely. More than that, maybe, even though neither of them have ever said anything about it.

But when people ask, he says they’re dating. Funny, since it’s been a while since they’ve been on a proper date. Now that they’re living together, it’s different - they do normal, mundane things together, going to the store and staying at home to order takeout and driving out into the mountains on their weekends off. Ric loves all of it - maybe loves the normal stuff more than the weird - but it seems about time they did something special again.

Ice skating seems like a great idea until he gets ‘Star out onto the rink in his rented skates and realizes that he’s never really done this before. Then he’s six and a half feet of awkward and terrified, and Ric is doing his best to calm him down despite being unsteady on his own skates. Last time he did this, he was a teenager still. He thought it was going to be one of those things that you never really forget, but that isn’t the case.

He sticks close to the side of the rink, holding ‘Star’s hand. “Just go slow,” he instructs him. ‘Star is watching his feet, apparently concerned about tripping over, so Ric watches the other skaters for him. “Walk in ‘em until you find your balance.”

“Walk?” ‘Star says, more unsettled than indignant about it. He squeezes Ric’s hand tighter, and Ric has to fight back a wince. “How does one exactly walk on a small blade on the ice? If there’s some sort of secret to it, I would very much like to hear it.”

“Like this,” Ric says, slowing to a shuffle. “Slow down. Watch what I’m doing.” He waits until ‘Star begins to keep pace with him, awkwardly inching across the ice. “Better. Don’t let go of my arm, man.”

“I am not going to let go. My apologies if I somehow injure you.” ‘Star looks at him, impossibly sincere, eyes flicking back down a moment later to look at his feet again. “Am I thinking about this too much? Is that the problem? No one else seems to be having this much difficulty.”

“Probably,” Ric says. He’s trying not to smile - he doesn’t want ‘Star to think that he’s making fun of him - but ‘Star is just so cute. “Why are you so freaked out about this, man? Are you worried you’re gonna get hurt?”

“No!” ‘Star insists, griping Ric’s arm tighter. “I suppose it would be impossible for me to be injured for more than a moment or two, but… I feel as if I am not in control of this situation with my feet and the ice. I… usually know what I am doing.”

Ric raises an eyebrow at him. “You don’t wanna step outside your comfort zone? That’s not like you.” Then ‘Star gives him a look that could only be described as pleading, and he relents. “If you wanna leave, that’s okay. We can do something else. But… listen, man, you’re gonna be okay.” He turns to face him, taking both of his hands and looking into his eyes, earnest, patient. “I promise I’m not gonna let you fall.”

“You never do.” ‘Star takes a deep breath. “I do not want to leave, but I am usually better at adjusting to my surroundings.” He looks like he’s still searching for his reasoning, why he’s so uncertain about this.

“Some things take time,” Ric points out as delicately as possible. “Don't worry about it. Everyone's nervous at the start. Nobody's just naturally good at this.” He squeezes ‘Star’s hands before he lets go of them, turning back onto the rink. “Come on. We'll go as slow as you want, man.”

“Hmm.” ‘Star shakes his head, but his confidence in Ric never falters. “If I do fall, I am swearing you to secrecy.” He narrows his eyes for a moment as he watches Ric skate a few feet ahead, clearly holding back the urge to grab onto his hand. He holds his arms out in front of him for a moment in an attempt to keep his balance and takes a slightly more confident stride forward, gliding up to where Ric stands waiting for him. 

Ric catches him, taking hold of his hands again and acting as a buffer. Even with momentum behind him, 'Star is so light. It takes nothing to slow him down. Instead of letting himself be pushed over like he might have been if 'Star was anybody else, he turns his foot to the side just slightly and they end up spinning in a slow half-circle, holding hands until they come to a stop. 'Star's startled expression soon gives way to a grin.

“That was amazing. You are amazing.” ‘Star sounds breathless and grins as though he’s just overcome something far more dangerous than skating in Times Square. “Do you have a special fondness for ice skating?”

Ric's own laugh surprises him. “Yeah, uh, I've done this maybe twice before in my life? Three times, if you count putting the skates on, falling over in front of my friends and then backing out? I don't know what I'm doing either.” It's kind of always been like that. He doesn't have all the answers. Sometimes he feels so out of touch with the world that it scares him, but he's always tried to be there for 'Star - to be his anchor, the line that keeps him tethered to humanity, his first point of call for human experience. He guesses he's not doing too bad at it.

“You do not have to know what you are doing. We always figure things out together.” ‘Star seems to have built up a bit more confidence. “I was having... a moment earlier. Perhaps I still do not understand how to ice skate, but… it is better with you here. It always is.”

Then it's Ric's turn to feel self-conscious. “I wouldn't be here if I wasn't with you,” he admits. The cold stings his cheeks, but that's not why he's blushing. “I'd probably be at home gettin’ drunk and watching Netflix documentaries. I… wanted to take you someplace nice. Y'know, like a real date.” 

“I understand. We have real dates all the time, however,” ‘Star assures him. “We go to the grocery store together and brunch together and - lots of other places. It is never really about where we are, Julio. It’s really about us. That is what makes it special to me.”

Not for the first time, Ric is reminded that 'Star has more of a handle on this stuff than he does. Worry though he might about not understanding life on earth, he sure seems to know what's important.

Still, Ric tries. “But don't you think this is… I dunno, extra special?”

“Of course.” ‘Star, apparently emboldened in his feelings and his place on the ice, pulls him close and lifts him up and kisses him, right in the middle of the gently falling snow and other skaters as if they were not there at all.

Ric feels his stomach flip as he's lifted off his feet. His eyes widen and his lips part with the first sound of his protest, but 'Star catches it before he can continue, and he keeps steady as Ric relaxes, closing his eyes and kissing him back. Lazily, he slips his arms around ‘Star’s shoulders and crosses his ankles around his waist. Seconds into the kiss he hears a scattering of applause from a group skating by, and he doesn't even let it embarrass him.

There’s a promise in ‘Star’s sky blue eyes when he pulls back, something that makes Ric feel nervous and hopeful and so many other things all at once. “I love you.”

It means something, Ric thinks. Something a little beyond the ordinary, something he can't quite put his finger on yet. Whatever it is, it makes his whole body hum with warmth. He feels light, so light, and not just because 'Star is carrying him. He leans in, pressing his forehead against 'Star's. “I love you too.”

“If I slip when I put you down I am sorry,” ‘Star tells him after a moment of quiet. “I do not think I accounted for that when I had the urge to kiss you.”

But he doesn’t slip, and neither does Rictor. Lucky, Ric thinks; it would have been pretty embarrassing if he let ‘Star fall after he promised not to.

“So… wanna keep going? It ain’t so bad once you find your feet, huh?”

“I have always known where my feet are. I -” ‘Star catches himself halfway through his explanation and then smiles at Ric, genuinely. “Colloquialisms,” he says sagely. “I see. But yes… I very much would like to stay.”


	2. Chapter 2

He comes home to find Rictor sitting on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, half slumped over a series of empty beer bottles. It’s late at night, at least by ‘Star’s standards, but when Ric looks up at him, startled, his eyes are wide and aware. Something glistens at the corner, and he wipes it away quickly.

“‘Star,” he says, punctuating it with a noise that might have been either a sharp inhale or a sniffle. “Hey, man. You’re home early. What’s up?”

“Terry and I finished with our shopping trip and I decided to come home rather than stay out.” It must be some time past midnight, by ‘Star’s approximation, and maybe it’s not late for Ric, but the way he looks in the darkness of their apartment concerns him. “Julio… are you alright?” 

“Uh…” Ric rubs at his eye with the palm of his hand, blinking hard when he pulls away. “Yeah. I’m fine, I just... had a couple too many drinks.” He starts to pick himself up, grunting in annoyance when he bumps his knee on the coffee table. The bottles rattle together when he pushes it back. He’s unsteady on his feet when he stands; not by much, but enough that ‘Star notices, and when ‘Star says his name again Ric relents, letting himself fall back onto the couch.

“I, uh…” He looks up at ‘Star forlornly, as though he’s done something he’s feeling guilty about. “I called my mom.”

“Julio…” ‘Star keeps his voice quiet and his tone as neutral as possible, but it is not as if he doesn’t know what this implies. Ric’s relationship with his family has always been fraught, even combative at times. He knows that the urge to reach out may have only been brought on by the onset of the holidays or perhaps the box of things his stepmother sent along, but…

If Ric had told him that he was planning to call, 'Star thinks he would have wanted to be here for it. 

He chooses his next words carefully. “It… did not go well, did it.”

Ric doesn't respond immediately. Maybe he doesn't have to. Instead he pats the couch cushion next to him, beckoning for 'Star to sit down, and 'Star does. A second later, he pulls Ric into his lap, and Ric leans into him gratefully.

“You know, I never told her about me,” Ric says, as 'Star sweeps his hair back from his face. “About being…” He leaves the sentence unfinished, like he can't quite force the word out, and says instead: “About us.”

Then he hides his face against ‘Star’s neck. His forehead feels hot, feverish. “I wish I never told her nothin’,” he mumbles. His voice is thick, like he's holding back anger or tears or both.

‘Star does the first thing that his heart telsl him to do. He presses a kiss to the top of Ric’s head and moves to hold him tighter. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You can tell me about it if you like, or if you would rather not, we can do something to take your mind off of it.” He hasn’t always been good with these things, in fact, he still isn’t sure that he is, but some sort of instinct always seems to take over when Ric needs him. If he's upset enough to be this open about it, he knows that Ric must. “Whatever you like.”

Ric twists around in his lap until he's pressed to him chest-to-chest, slipping his arms around his waist. “I should probably talk about it,” he admits, though it's clear he doesn't want to think about it at all. “I guess… I don't know what I thought was gonna happen. I call her and I say thanks for the Christmas tree, y'know, and she says what about that other stuff, and I say thanks for that too. Then she's like, are you goin’ to mass this year, and I'm like I dunno, mom, I don't really do church anymore, and I'm like freaking out 'cause I'm trying to tell her that I'm, y'know, out and stuff now, but she…” 

He stops to draw a shaky breath. His words are coming faster, like the floodgates have opened and he can't stop himself. “She says when are you coming back to visit, and I'm like soon, maybe, and I said I know we haven't been on great terms but I've been thinkin’ about you and all the others and there's - there's someone I want you guys to meet,” another breath, “and she says - she says, you got a girlfriend? You want to bring your girlfriend home to meet us?”

He's holding 'Star tighter now, and he isn't looking up. “And I'm like… no, mom, I don't have a girlfriend. She says, maybe you should get out more, try and find a girl, and I said I don't wanna find a girl, 'cause I got someone. And she's like, what? And I'm like,” he raises one hand, gesturing vaguely, “I got a boyfriend. I got this guy who's really great for me and I love him, and he loves me back, and then she says…” 

His words stick in his throat. “Man, some of the shit she said to me, I thought - I thought I was gonna -”

“Shhh,” ‘Star soothes when he hears the hiccup of a sob in Ric’s voice. He doesn't need to hear anymore. Something inside of him feels like it’s cracking apart, but he’s always been good at being strong, so that’s what he does. “It is alright. Breathe…” he rubs soothing circles on Ric’s back and tries to fight back the surge of emotion that comes when he sees Ric’s eyes. He’s not sure if deep breathing is what Ric should do, but it’s how he’s been calmed down before, walked back from the jagged edge of anger. “Nothing anyone can ever say would make what we have less important.”

“I know,” Ric says. He sounds distraught. “This isn't - this isn't gonna throw us into question, man, it's okay. It's not like I'm gonna listen to her. I don't care what she has to say about me, or what the rest of 'em are gonna say when they find out. Fuck 'em. They're all a bunch of assholes.”

'Star nods sympathetically. “But… if you don't care,” he asks, as carefully as he can, “what's making you so upset?”

Ric wipes his face again with a sniffle. “I dunno,” he says. “I guess… getting that box of stuff made me feel kinda homesick. And then… then I was thinkin’ about you, y'know, and how you haven't got anything like that - nobody's sendin’ you any packages of useless shit from home. I thought… I always thought my family were the worst people in the world, y'know, but I'm an adult now and I thought I should stop actin' like a kid, like, lashing out at them over shit we can probably just talk over. I thought… it's difficult, but at least I still got them, you know? You don't have anyone. So I… I called my mom thinkin’ I'd tell her about you, and about me, and maybe I'd come visit. And the reason I wanted to do that… isn't 'cause of me. It's 'cause of you - 'cause it's Christmas, and you ain't got any family, and I wanted to - to share mine.” 

He looks up at 'Star, searching his face. “It was stupid,” he says. “You don't want none of that. It's a goddamn mess.”

“Julio,” ‘Star’s tone is gentle as his hands when he moves them from Ric’s back to cup his cheeks. His heart twinges when he feels how damp they are. “It was not stupid. It was a sweet sentiment. But…” He looks right into those shining brown eyes. “You are my family. As strange as the circumstances might have been, you have cared for me my entire life. I want to spend this time with you.” ‘Star takes a breath. “And I know it is not the same. Your family back home is more than just two people, but we have James and Tabitha and Terry… we have a family. They are not blood related, but that does not make it any less special.”

Ric tilts his head away when he laughs in spite of himself. 'Star notices that he's blinking hard again, and he doesn't look up until he's stopped. “Man, are you trying to make me cry with all that _the X-Men are my family_ stuff? I thought we were too cool for that.” 

He curls in against 'Star's chest, tucking his head under his chin, where it fits. “So… we're family,” he murmurs, quiet as though saying it out loud might break the spell. “You and me. You see us like that?”

“I do,” ‘Star tells him, feeling confidence surge in him when he says it. “But it has always been more than that for me. You do realize that without your assistance I would not exist, correct? Not in this form, not in this way. That is important, but it is not the most important thing.” He slides his hand down Ric’s back, holding him close. “You were the only person who ever treated me like a person. Who held me accountable for my actions. Who wasn’t _scared_ of me. I don't know if you understand what a profound effect you have had on me.”

There's a pause while Ric thinks about it. 'Star waits for him, patient as he curls in closer, wiping his eyes on the collar of 'Star's shirt.

“I think I'm gettin’ it,” Ric says finally, glancing up just to flash him a wry smile. “I mean, think about what you just did for me - gettin’ me to talk about what's going on, pulling me up into your lap like that.” He sounds almost dreamy when he talks about it. “Guess you wouldn't have done that back when we just met, huh?”

‘Star knows he wouldn't have. To touch another person with affection instead of in violence (or worse, for the camera) would have been unthinkable, and to do so without being asked, simply because he wanted to - that's Rictor's influence, and Ric's influence alone.

“I dunno about holding you accountable, though,” Ric continues. 'Star can hear his grin. “I let you get away with a whole lot of shit.”

“You still do,” ‘Star reminds him, pulling him just the tad bit tighter. He’s not smiling, not yet, but he can feel it. “But I think that is beyond the point. You’ve always been a grounding force for me. I think it is only appropriate I attempt to do the same for you.”

He can already feel Ric relaxing in his arms. His breathing is steadier now that he's no longer fighting the urge to cry. 'Star comforts himself with the sound of his heartbeat, slow and even and familiar. That grounds him, too.

“You're doing great,” Ric tells him. “Thanks for… thank you for being there for me.”

“I wish I had known what you were planning to do. I would have come home sooner - no, I wouldn't have gone out at all.” He’s not scolding Ric, far from it. He just wants to remind him that he’s here. No matter what.

Ric waves his hand. “No, man,” he says, shaking his head. “Don’t beat yourself up over that. It was a bummer anyway.” He laughs to himself over that, and as tired as he might be, the sound is still music to 'Star's ears. “Doesn't matter. Only thing that matters is that you're here now.”

—

“Are you going to eat all of those?” 

‘Star freezes in place when he hears the accusation, hand pulling away from the tray as he pulls two sugar cookies close to him. Being summoned to the school wasn’t exactly on his or Ric’s agenda of things to do, but considering it’s almost always an emergency when it happens, they assumed they had no other choice. It turned out to be something far different to what he expected. One thing he does know, though, is that he didn’t sign up for being harassed about eating too many Christmas cookies.

“You do not put cookies out on a tray unless you want someone to eat them,” ‘Star grumbles, glaring daggers at his accuser, a boy who looks to be comprised of transparent pink jelly.

“No, man, you put them out when you’re having a party so everyone can have them,” the boy points out. “You’ve eaten like ten while I’ve been standing here. Vic, Santo and I worked hard on those.”

“If you worked so hard, you wouldn’t want ‘em to go to waste, would you?” Rictor appears at his side, looking cool from his heavy leather boots to the rolled-up sleeves of his jean jacket to the grin on his face. He swipes two cookies from the tray, nibbling the corner off one as he surveys the scene in front of him.

“How many of you guys are there? I ain’t never seen any of you around here before. I knew Jean said there were a lot of X-people, but this is ridiculous.” 

‘Star can’t remember seeing the jelly boy anywhere before either, but he’s not entirely enthusiastic about his tone.

“We were never students,” he says bluntly. I'm assuming that is why we look unfamiliar to you.”

“Yeah,” the boy says, crossing his gelatinous arms over his chest. “I guess you’re just not A-list X-Men like us. Kinda nice of Jean to invite you to this thing anyway.”

“She’s a nice person,” Ric says, picking up several more cookies, stacking them in his hand. “Even to us D-listers.” He nudges ‘Star with his elbow. “Come on, man. Let’s go get some of that fruit punch before Tabby drinks it all.”

“I think these students get ruder and ruder with each incarnation,” ‘Star grumbles under his breath as they wander down the hall towards the auditorium. Ric offers him a cookie and he accepts it, feeling his anger subside a little when he takes a bite.

“Maybe,” Ric says. “Or maybe it just seems that way ‘cause we’ve forgotten how rude we used to be.”

“I was never rude,” ‘Star says through a mouthful of his stolen cookie. “I was perfectly amicable. You, on the other hand…” 

“Hey,” Ric says, “I never stopped being rude. That’s gotta be why you like me so much, right? You were always into it.”

“And you were always into my compunction to act quickly without thinking and my thirst for the blood of my enemies,” ‘Star says casually, but they both know there is more than just a little sarcasm behind those words. “That must be why you’re still here, yes?” He takes another cookie as he kisses Ric on the cheek.

“I mean, if we’re gonna be real about it,” Ric leans in a little closer, until they’re pressed together side to side, “no. I’m into the fact that you’re basically the opposite of that.” His arm slips around ‘Star’s waist, and there’s a seriousness to his tone that makes ‘Star’s heart skip a beat. “I knew there was a person hidden somewhere under all that shit. I’m glad I was there to pull you out.”

“Are we getting emotional inside of the X-Mansion at a school dance?” ‘Star smiles with his half-eaten cookie still in his hand. “I was not prepared for a public outpouring of emotion, but if we're sharing our feelings, I suppose I could tell this entire assembly of people why I love you so much.”

Ric shrugs. “Maybe save it for the dancefloor,” he suggests. 

“Perhaps the teachers might frown upon that. Public displays of affection, as they say.” ‘Star knows they were asked here to act as chaperones for the school dance, but he's not certain if that involves leading by example. He hopes not. He tests the waters, sneaking his hand around from Ric's waist and into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Watch it, man, there are kids around,” Ric says, with a low, nervous laugh. “I didn't mean feel me up in front of everyone, big guy. I meant maybe we should… y'know, dance.” They reach the end of the hallway, just outside a tall tinsel-covered arch and a cluster of white, blue and silver cardboard cutout snowflakes. Ric stops and looks up at him. “Is that dumb? It's probably dumb.”

“Why would it be dumb? Neither you nor I were never afforded the opportunity to dance together in public when we were younger, let alone at an event like this.” ‘Star is tall enough that he can reach up and touch some glittery snowflakes hanging from the ceiling. “This… is nice. I am happy they are doing things like this.”

“Hey, if there’s glitter on those things, you better not put your hands anywhere near my f-” Ric interrupts himself with a yelp of protest when ‘Star does just that, catching him by the shoulder and wiping his glitter-covered hand right across his face. He tries to pull away, but it’s too late; it shimmers when it catches the light, silver all the way across his cheek and into the week or so of beard that covers his jawline. It reminds ‘Star of the snow that drifted in through their window that time a few nights ago.

“You were saying?” ‘Star asks, gripping Ric’s shoulder a little tighter. “I like the glitter,” he continues, taking his still shimmery hand and running it through his hair, leaving sparkles in its wake. “I think it’s very festive and we are supposed to be getting into the holiday spirit, are we not?” 

He hears the quietest whine escape from Ric’s lips. He leans into ‘Star’s touch for just a moment before he catches himself, shaking his hair back. 

“What’d I say,” he murmurs, nudging ‘Star to the side as people start to file through the archway, “about feeling me up in front of people? Come on, man, at least give me a chance to try and be appropriate.”

‘Star plays oblivious, shrugging at him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Ric narrows his eyes. “You know exactly what I mean,” he hisses back. “You know how I get about you touching my hair like that.”

‘Star is still smiling while he shakes his head. “And here I am, mentally tallying up all of the times you have ever been _inappropriate_ with me in public.” He crosses his arms across his chest. “And now I am supposed to leave you alone when you’re dressed so handsomely?” ‘Star gestures to Ric’s tight pants and heavy boots. “As far as I see it, you give me little choice.”

“I’m not sayin’ leave me be, I’m sayin’ don’t get me worked up in the middle of a school dance,” Ric whispers back. His eyes are trained on the crowd walking in, cautious of any sideways glances or looks. “We’re supposed to be the adults here, remember? Jean asked us to keep everything under control, and we can’t do that if we can’t control ourselves.”

“I understand,” ‘Star nods, but he still has the curl of a smile on his lips. “We are to be responsible adults.” There is a beat of silence and then he narrows his eyes slightly. “If I may ask… what does a responsible adult do at a function like this?” 

“We’re chaperoning,” Ric explains, taking a step towards the archway and beckoning for ‘Star to follow. “It just means we get to stand at the side and make sure nobody’s doing anything we would do.”

‘Star couldn’t stop the laugh that escapes his lips even if he wanted to. “So we are supposed to supervise teenagers and make sure they are not being teenagers,” he summarizes. “And all the while, I will be attempting not to be charmed by you.” He pokes Ric right in the chest before walking past him and into a glittery curtain of snowflakes.

It really is beautiful in there. It’s funny, ‘Star thinks, how a school auditorium decorated with paper cutouts and glitter glue and tinsel manages to look more magical than any high-tech display of screens and holograms he’s ever seen on his home planet. Balloons and paper streamers cover the ceiling, and pale blue lights float over the crowd, catching split seconds of people’s lives in the spotlight - a group of boys laughing at some unheard joke, the flutter of gossamer wings and the dazed blinking of twenty eyes at once, a freeze-frame of two girls dancing, the blue light catching on their silver skin.

This, ‘Star thinks, is why he loves Earth so much. Or maybe just one of the reasons. There are always too many to count on occasions like this, but he knows he’s never seen anything even half as beautiful on Mojoworld. There was no place for it and the more he thinks about it, it was never truly a place for him either. 

This, though. This could be the place for him.

‘Star takes a breath and smooths out his sweater almost subconsciously as he and Ric make their way to the back of the auditorium and toward the refreshment table, which is helpfully labeled as such. 

“Did you say Tabitha was going to be here?” It hits him like an afterthought. 

“If she’s not here already,” Ric says. “When Jean called to say she needed someone to help out here, I volunteered Tabs ‘cause I knew she’d be pissed about it.” His bright white teeth catch the light when he smirks. “She’d never want to let Jean down, though. None of us would.”

“I should be honored that you invited me along as well. I have never been very friendly with the other X-Men. Perhaps I may be imagining it, but it seems they still look at me a bit oddly.” ‘Star doesn’t care, not really. He and Ric have their friends and their place outside of this core group of X-Men. As long as he has Ric, it doesn’t really matter what anyone else thinks of him. 

“Only ‘cause you wore a sweater to the school dance,” Ric jokes. “Don’t worry about it, dude. Everyone’s weird when they first come here. Then you get to know people, and you’re not weird anymore.” They inch through the crowd, looking for a quieter spot somewhere by the wall. “I know they do stuff differently here than we did back in X-Force, but the idea is the same.”

“I’m not so certain,” 'Star admits. “Here, it seems that they actually want these children to grow up and leave the school without becoming X-Men, or at least to be afforded the choice. These are not soldiers. These are teenagers.”

“We found time to be teenagers too,” Ric points out. He’s looking out over the crowd, pausing occasionally to fix any misbehaving students with a warning glare. “We never got to go to any dances, though.”

“Would you have wanted to go to dances back then?” ‘Star asks him, looking over a group of students cluttered in the back of the room. When they see him staring, they scatter. “I know I would not have known what to do with myself.” Maybe he still doesn’t, but it’s okay. As Ric reminds him all the time, he doesn’t always have to know. 

“Would I have wanted…” Ric repeats, as though it was a silly question. “With you? Yeah.” He smiles and shakes his head, embarrassed. “I mean, it never would’ve happened even if we did have dances, but I always…” He sighs. “It’s dumb, but I used to think about that sometimes. Like, about what it would be like if we were… I dunno, normal.” His hand brushes against ‘Star’s, like he’s waiting for ‘Star to make the first move, so ‘Star interlaces their fingers.

“If we were not mutants, or if I was not the alien byproduct of a time paradox?” ‘Star inquires earnestly. There are a lot of things that make up who they are, and although he can’t speak for Ric, he’s not entirely certain he’d give it up to be normal. Not even the painful parts. “I always want to know what you’re thinking. Tell me.” He squeezes Ric’s hand.

“Nah, none of that,” Ric shakes his head. “That ain’t the problem. I meant more… if we got to grow up like this,” he says, gesturing around the auditorium. “If we just, y’know, got to be teenagers. Going to school, sittin’ next to each other in class… askin’ each other out to dances.” He laughs, like he can’t believe what he’s saying. “I know, right? That doesn’t sound like me. I guess I never would have wanted anything like that if it wasn’t for you.”

“If you were searching for _normal_ ,” ‘Star raises an eyebrow at him, but he’s still holding his hand tightly, “I'm not sure why you thought you would find it in someone like me.” His lips are quirked in a sort of half smile again.

“Well, maybe I only wanna do that stuff because with you, it’s not normal,” Ric says. He looks up at him, his expression so open and affectionate that 'Star can only stare. “You say _someone like you_ , but there's no-one else like you. You're special. You make things special.” He’s staring out over the crowd again. “Like this.”

“I would say the same for you.” He leans back against the wall, hardly minding the fact that his shirt will be covered in glitter when he pulls away. “Everything's better when I’m with you.” 

“Even being boring at a dance?”

“You’re never boring, Julio.” ‘Star takes Ric’s hand still grasped in his and kisses the back of it. “You are always the most eye catching thing about a room, even a room like this.” He places another kiss on Ric’s wrist and trails them up until he reaches where his jacket is rolled into cuffs. “Is this too inappropriate?” 

“Oh, god,” Ric murmurs, the New York part of his accent more obvious than ever - _gawd_. “Yeah, it is. I’m here tryin’ to look all cool and collected and you’re gonna make me turn into mush.” He doesn’t pull his hand away, but even under the cool lights ‘Star can see that his cheeks are burning.

“Isn’t romance supposed to play a part in dances like this?” ‘Star plays coy, but he still hasn’t dropped Ric’s hand. “Am I not supposed to be at my most romantic? My aim is simply to fit in, not to turn you into any sort of liquified goo.”

“Then you’ve gotta rein it in,” Ric says, “‘cause that’s where I’m headed. And I can’t chaperone this dance if I’m - what did you say? - liquefied goo.”

He’s still smiling even when he rolls his eyes and gives Ric’s hand one last squeeze before dropping it. “I understand,” he says, before he drops his voice lower and leans in close. “Though I will not be held responsible for what I do once we are home.”

He sees Ric shiver, and wishes he’d stayed close enough to feel it too. He likes that, likes having that kind of effect on him. 

“Noted,” Ric mumbles, blushing again. “So, uh, do you see anything weird going on out there? Some of these kids are taller than me and I can’t see over their heads.”

“Do you need a boost?” 'Star jokes, and Ric rolls his eyes in response. “Perhaps I should try to look more imposing, so as to stop anyone who might misbehave?”

“I'm gonna pass on both of those things,” Ric says, “and just tell you to point people out to me if they're doing something _really_ wrong.” He crosses his arms, leaning back against the wall. “Otherwise, I think we should just let them have fun.” He glances at 'Star out of the corner of his eye. “The more I think about it, the more I remember what it was like to be a teenager. Nobody wants someone looking over their shoulder like that.”

He has a point. Thinking about it, 'Star wonders if it might even be lucky for the students that they ended up with Rictor as their chaperone and not Jean Grey, in all her psychic omnipresence. 

Then again, maybe they'd be fine. She doesn't seem the type to use her powers like Cable did, for strict supervision instead of empathy and guidance. Not for the first time, 'Star finds himself feeling a little envious.

“Technically,” 'Star notes, “I am looking over all of their shoulders.” 

The joke earns a snort from someone he didn’t even realize was standing close by. It’s the boy with all of the eyes, the one who attended their Halloween party. He wishes he could remember his name.

“Was there something you needed?” ‘Star glances to the side, feeling a twinge of anxiety. He wonders if it's contagious.

“Uh…” The boy hesitates. “Just wanted to say hi, I guess?”

Ric saves the day. “Trevor!” he greets him. _That_ was his name, 'Star thinks. He watches as Ric and Trevor do something in between a high-five and a handshake, marveling again at how casual Ric is about social interaction. “Hey, man, what's up? You got a date tonight, or are you just hanging out with friends?”

“I came here with someone, but she… she doesn’t like Christmas all that much. Not that I blame her. It can be kind of a bummer even when you don’t talk to plants and animals.” Trevor looks sheepish again. 'Star sees some of the eyes on his arm glance his direction before glancing away again. Maybe even in a sweater and jeans he’s more imposing than he would like to be.

“And let me guess, she left? Are you gonna sneak away to see her?” Ric asks. “Don't worry,” he adds, leaning in to stage-whisper over the music. “I'm not gonna snitch on you. Just don't do anything dumb, and come back before Jean gets here.”

“No… I think she wants her privacy.” Trevor sighs, downtrodden. “And, uh, I don’t think she actually likes me anyway. I guess it was just kind of a friend thing, or like… I don’t know.” Trevor isn’t articulating as well as he’d like to be, ‘Star can tell, but at least he’s trying. He can admire that. He could never have admitted his feelings out loud when he was that age. He barely knew what feelings were at all.

“Yeah,” Ric elbows Trevor playfully in the ribs, “so go sneak out and be her friend. Maybe she doesn't wanna be here, but she probably doesn't wanna be alone either.”

A glimmer of hope shines in Trevor's many eyes. It's still there even when he glances at 'Star again, nervous, and quickly looks away.

Ric seems to get it. “Is this guy makin’ you anxious?” he asks. He's not making fun of him; his voice is full of a familiar kind of friendly concern. “Don't worry about him, he's harmless.”

“It's not that,” Trevor says quickly, then looks down, fidgeting with the sleeves of his letterman jacket. “It's… uh, my powers are… I can, uh… I see things,” he explains. “Like, invisible things.” He leans in. “I can see feelings,” he whispers, more awkward than ever. “And he… I mean, he's like…”

“Oh,” Ric says, then cringes. “Ooh. Is that, like, something inappropriate, or…”

“No,” Trevor hurries to clarify. Then: “Well, yeah, but that's not the main thing. He just…” He looks between the two of them, then seems to steel his resolve somewhat. “You guys just love each other a lot,” he says, squinting as he studies them. “Looking at something like that is kind of like staring into the sun. It's just… really bright.” He blinks a few times. “I should go find Lin,” he decides.

‘Star is still staring when Trevor decides to leave with a wave and sheepish smile. 

“Was that a compliment? I - I am unsure how I feel about someone being able to see my feelings.” He turns slowly to Ric as Trevor disappears into the crowd, suddenly feeling an overflow of warmth in his chest. “Someone who can see feelings…” he looks down at his own hands for a moment. “That must be overwhelming.” Just the implication is overwhelming to him.

“Is that better or worse than someone reading your thoughts?” Ric poses, evidently deep in thought about it himself. “Better, I think. Right? I mean, it's gotta be. At least feelings aren't specific.” They sounded specific when Trevor described them, though. 'Star isn't so sure.

“We have both been trained to hide our thoughts from a number of telepaths. I… cannot hide my feelings for you,” ‘Star tells him honestly, heart still feeling very present and warm in his chest.

Ric settles back against the wall, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I guess you don't need to anymore,” he says. A smile grows on his face when he says it, small but irrepressible. “Guess neither of us have anything left to hide.”

Together, they look out over the crowd. 'Star sees the two girls who were dancing, now huddled together and talking in hushed whispers and giggles, and further towards the wall two boys who have just started, one confidently leading the other onto the dancefloor and the other more awkward, glancing around, holding tightly onto his hand.

He looks over in time to see Ric sigh, as his smile slips a little. “That coulda been us,” he says, sounding wistful. “If it was only a couple years later… weird how fast things change, huh?”

'Star pushes away from the wall. “It could still be us now,” he says.

Ric looks up at him. “What?” he asks, before his eyes widen. “Oh, no. No, I was just kidding about wanting to dance,” he warns, shaking his head. “We shouldn't - I mean, I don't know if -”

'Star pulls him out onto the dancefloor anyway.

He doesn't know how to dance, but most of the other people on the floor aren't dancing either. He sees people standing a foot or two apart, hands on waists or on shoulders, so he steps in close to Ric and does the same - Ric's hands around his shoulders, and his hands on Ric's waist. Ric settles in close to him, apparently having forgotten all his protests. When the light shimmers over them, he's smiling again.

He sees sparkles around them, and the stray glitter he worked into Ric’s hair shimmer and wink back at him. “Do you really think you would have wanted to be a student here? I feel like we had a lot of good, private moments alone in Arizona. Our version of being awkward on the dance floor was sneaking to each other’s bunks and constantly hogging the recreation room.”

“Don't get me wrong,” Ric says, leaning in closer to talk to him. “I wouldn't change that stuff for the world. I just wish there was less sneaking around.” He's close enough that his chest is pressed to 'Star's chest, close enough to rest his head on his shoulder. “Doing this… I mean, having people know about us… it feels good. Normal.”

“I feel as if everyone knew even when we didn’t say anything about it,” ‘Star tells him, eyes half closed as he listens to the music. “I feel as if sneaking around is something teenagers do. A fair amount of students just snuck out of the back doors of the auditorium together. I think that perhaps we would have been doing it regardless.” It doesn’t register to him what he’s just witnessed until after he’s said it aloud. “Should we attempt to stop them?” He pulls back just slightly.

Ric seems torn. “Maybe,” he admits, looking like the last thing he wants to do is step away. “But -”

“You think I didn't see that?” Tabby's voice rings out over the slow music. “Come _on,_ you kids are so lame! You don't even know how to sneak out of a dance.” 

When 'Star looks over, he sees them all filing back into the auditorium, each looking more embarrassed than the next.

“That answers that question,” Ric says.

‘Star nods, mostly to himself, before pulling Ric back in. “And it means we don’t have to take that responsibility and I can be close to you for a little longer.”

‘Star closes his eyes again and presses his lips to Ric’s forehead and feels everything but the music fall quiet around them. “Though I am certain that this will not be the last time we are close tonight.” 

If Ric says something after that he doesn’t hear him. The music picks up again, louder than before, and all 'Star can focus on is the warmth between them and the sparking lights and the way the glitter in Ric’s hair seems to shimmer just at him. He wants to say something, wants Ric to know exactly how he feels in the moment, but maybe he doesn’t need to say anything. Maybe it’s perfect just as it is.

\-- 

Ric falls asleep late that night, and when he sleeps he dreams of 'Star. They're dancing on the ice rink in front of the Times Square tree - real dancing, not just swaying in place like teenagers at a school function. 

The square is quiet and empty save for them. The ice is solid, not slippery under their feet. A flurry of snowflakes falls around them. Some are paper cutouts covered in glitter, and some of them are real. They blanket every grimy part of the city in blue-white. 'Star dips him low and kisses him and he's so warm, so close. They stay there forever.

Ric wakes up. It's quiet in their room, too. The wind rattles the fire escape window, and when Ric touches it, it's cold. His hand leaves an outline in the mist and condensation when he pulls away.

“Are you okay?” A voice pulls him out of his thoughts, sleepy and low. ‘Star. 

He’s wrapped in their comforter, snug against the pillows with his blue eyes focused on him. For all that he seems sleepy, Ric knows he’s probably as alert as ever, even cocooned in the sheets of their bed.

Ric blinks the sleep out of his eyes and looks at him, really looks. His ginger hair sticks up at odd angles, pushed out of place by the pillow, but his eyes are bright and attentive. In the city light that streams in through the window, Ric can see the freckles that cover 'Star's face from one cheekbone to the other, and in the shadow, the bow-shaped outline of his lips. Sometimes Ric loves him so much it makes his heart hurt.

“Yeah,” Ric says, as a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, dude, I'm okay.”

He lets 'Star pull him under the covers, curling in close to him as he tucks the blanket around them both.

“You were having a dream,” 'Star observes.

“Yeah,” Ric says. “I was dreaming about us dancing.”

“At the school?”

“No,” Ric explains. “We were out on the ice rink in front of the tree. It was snowing - snowing all these little bits of paper and confetti, and real snow too, but it wasn't cold. It was so quiet,” he continues. He's being quiet now too. A spell has settled over them, some kind of magic, and he won't be the one to break it. “It was just us - just the two of us.” He won't stop now. He wants to tell 'Star everything before he forgets any of it. “It was weird - we weren't in winter clothes. We were wearin’ suits - tuxedos, I think, like we were at a…” He slows down, bites his lip. “At someone's wedding,” he says, softer, “or, I dunno. Somethin' formal like that.”

“If there was nobody else there, perhaps it was our wedding,” ‘Star muses, nestling closer to him still. Ric can see him smiling even under the blankets, and his smile is knowing. “Did I look nice?”

Ric stares at him. “You're just gonna drop that bomb on me and then move on like nothing happened?” he murmurs, already knowing the answer. “Cool. And yeah, man, of course you looked good. I think, uh… think I'd like to see you in a tux again sometime.”

“Oh?” 'Star's smile colours his voice, tints it with the secret that sits unspoken on both their tongues. “Perhaps we should be making arrangements.”

Ric hides his face against 'Star's chest. When he speaks again, his lips are close enough to his skin to tickle him, and he feels him squirm. “You can't spring that on me at three in the morning,” he tells him, turning that incidental brush of lips into a series of kisses, trailing slowly down from his chest to his stomach and then lower. “I'm tired and vulnerable. I'd say yes to anything.” 

His heart leaps when he says it. He would, he thinks. He would. 'Star is naked under the covers. They both are. They fell into bed together when they got home, but Ric suddenly feels like he isn't done yet. He wants to be close again, as close as he can be.

“I am not attempting to spring anything on you,” ‘Star insists. His hands tangle in Ric's hair as he kisses his skin. “Not yet, at least.”

Ric's stomach flips every time 'Star mentions it. He wonders if 'Star knows, if he feels the same, if he even understands the significance. The same words keep echoing through his head - _I would. I would._ He squeezes his eyes shut, fighting back the irrepressible smile on his lips.

“We're not talkin’ about that.” _I would._ “I'm gonna suck your cock now, and then we're going back to sleep.”

“Oh?” ‘Star is smiling at him too, pressing his fingers further into his hair and rubbing his scalp in a way that makes him melt. “And I suppose you think that will distract me into forgetting all about your dream.”

“That's the plan,” Ric says, but he doesn't mean it, and he knows ‘Star won't forget. Ric doesn't want to forget about it either. He takes 'Star in hand, feeling his way around, stroking him slowly before he leans in to take him into his mouth.

‘Star can’t quite bite his lip before the moan escapes it, breath hitching and body tensing until he’s uncoiling under him. “Julio… your mouth is so warm.” He breathes the words into the air and they almost seem to sparkle, like all those snowflakes outside.

“Mmm,” Ric hums in response. He thinks about pulling back to reply properly, but he’s already too wrapped up in him, in the warmth and the taste of him and the eager way he reacts. Instead he feels around for his hand, guiding it into his hair when he finds it.

‘Star doesn’t buck up into Ric’s mouth, even though Ric can feel that he’s trembling to almost do so. He’s still save for the shaking of his hands in his hair and the way his fingers twitch as if to tug on it when Ric takes him particularly deep. He’s completely unwound, laid bare like he always is when Ric does this.

This time, Ric speaks up. “You don't need to hold back,” he tells him, hearing the breathlessness in his own voice. “Not with me.”

'Star meets his eyes for a second. Then he moves quickly. He pulls Ric up into a kiss, searing hot and far more urgent than anything that's happened so far. Then he flips him onto his front, strong, capable hands taking hold of his hips as he moves behind. Ric gasps and grins into the softness of the pillow, arching his back on impulse.

“Fuck,” he purrs, “yes.”

He feels like 'Star could just sink into him right away, but he doesn't. Instead, he presses his fingers between his cheeks and stretches him in one swift motion. Ric can already feel his stomach burn molten hot, pleasure racing up his spine.

Ric opens his mouth to speak, but a whine escapes instead. He didn’t shower after the first time tonight; he was tired, and ‘Star bundled him into bed still naked. Now he’s wide awake again, still sticky and slick, and every molecule in his body sings with need.

“I have you,” ‘Star soothes him without him even having to ask. “I’ll give you what you need.” His fingers are gone suddenly and for one brief, aching moment he’s empty until ‘Star fills him up again. It feels like a bubble of warmth bursts inside of him, and it’s too much and not enough simultaneously. Once, Ric wondered if it would always feel like this. Now, wondering about it seems dumb. The answer is obvious.

It always does. Always feels so good - better than good, Ric thinks. It feels perfect. Him and ‘Star, they’re perfect together.

“Love it when you act like you’re just doin’ this for me,” Ric drawls as ‘Star slides into him, covering him with his body so that his chest is flush against Ric’s back and staying there while Ric squirms under him. “Like you don’t need it as much as I do.”

“How much I need you is incalculable,” ‘Star tells him, whispering it into his ear. It fills his chest with the same burning warmth that’s in his stomach. “The way I feel when I’m with you is impossible to explain in words.” He kisses the shell of Ric's ear, tongue flicking at the lobe. “But despite that, you seem to always get me to try.”

“Uh-huh,” Ric says. “I'm a narcissist. Sorry. I -” he starts to say, but then 'Star moves in him and it feels too good and he whines so loudly and so desperately that it makes him blush. He arches up against him, pushing himself onto his cock, too needy to wait and too turned on to care. 'Star holds him by the hips, fingertips digging in just hard enough for him to feel it, and that action alone drives him crazy.

‘Star mouths at his shoulder, licks along the line of him and sinks his teeth in when he moves sharply backwards - not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to make Ric moan.

“Were you just -” Ric's voice comes out quiet, breathy with sleep and sex. It's so hard to get the words out when he feels like this, hard to do anything but moan for more, but he tries. “- Just lying there awake, thinkin' about doing this to me?”

“For the past two hours, yes,” ‘Star tells him as though it's a matter of fact, and then licks over the bite mark that aches perfectly on Ric’s shoulder. “You we’re making sounds in your sleep… it was impossible for me to keep my thoughts from wandering.”

“And it wasn’t even a sex dream,” Ric quips back. “But maybe it was leading to that. Stuff between us usually is.”

“If you were not _you,_ ” ‘Star punctuates the last word with a thrust of his hips, roughly hissing as the sensation gets the better of him. “Then perhaps I wouldn’t be compelled to think about this every moment we are alone. Perhaps I wouldn't lie awake, dreaming of you. But you… everything about you is intoxicating. I cannot change the way I feel. I can't help but want you - can't stop needing you.”

“Mmm, good,” Ric purrs, as ‘Star begins to slide in and out of him, slow and deep just like he likes it. “I don’t want you to stop. So… please,” he continues, glancing back at ‘Star over his shoulder. “Don’t stop.”

‘Star doesn't. He grips Ric's hips even tighter, pressing fingertips in hard enough to bruise but not enough to leave any lasting damage. He’s always so careful, even in the heat of the moment. He seems to know just what Ric needs, and needs it just as much himself. 

He trails kisses between Ric’s shoulder blades, sinking into him slower, deeper, impossibly deep. Ric’s mind is hazy with lust, but his body is alight. ‘Star covers him with touches and kisses, fills him completely, melds with him and overtakes his every impulse until they move as one. Then all he can do is repeat those same two words - _don’t stop, don’t stop_ \- until his climax rushes through him and he’s coming.

He feels 'Star speed up, chasing him until the same rush overtakes them both. He hears him pant in his ear, the warmth of his breath tickling his skin. Then he falls on top of him, curls around him, kisses everywhere he can reach. 

“I love you,” 'Star murmurs. Ric feels that too. 

He doesn’t remember exactly when he falls asleep, but it’s pretty soon after. Sleep comes to him easily; he’s warm and comfortable and satisfied, and when he wakes up, ‘Star is still at his side.


	3. Chapter 3

After hearing of Ric’s dream about dancing in the glittering snow, ‘Star can’t seem to get the thought of it out of his mind. Maybe it’s just the mental image, or maybe it’s more about the brief conversation they had afterward; words shared in whispers between them, never explicit, always in hushed tones like if they spoke about it too loud they might never get the chance again. Either way, he thinks about it for days after.

‘Star eats half a tin of butter cookies on the couch while Ric is out and falls asleep bundled under a heavy blanket while a Christmas movie plays on the television. He dreams about waking up in a plush bed, the scent of pine all around. He dreams of Ric pulling him out of bed while he’s still dressed in pajamas and thick socks and walking him down a grand staircase. Then, suddenly, they are both in suits and they dance in the foyer under a chandelier, twinkling lights reflecting on the marble floor. Julio looks so handsome in his suit, and his smile is brighter than any light in the room. ‘Star feels his heart swell in his chest, feels it grow three sizes like the Grinch in the Christmas cartoon he fell asleep watching. They dance. ‘Star spins Ric around expertly and Ric grabs him by the lapels of of his suit jacket, pulling him close for a kiss.

When he wakes up, he's back in their bed with the blanket from the couch still wrapped around him. He can't help but feel disoriented at first, but he pieces it together quickly. Rictor must have come home and carried him from the couch to the bed, as he has done before. Odd, then, that 'Star doesn't remember awakening when Ric picked him up. He's usually a very light sleeper. He supposes he's become more relaxed lately, comfortable in the safety of their domestic life.

He stretches and curls around the blanket and his pillow, eyes still slightly unfocused. The lights are off save for the glow from outside of the window that’s iced over. Every light in the city looks magical under its haze.

“Julio?” he calls, turning to face the half-closed door of their bedroom.

He hears the click of Ric's laptop closing, the rustle of the couch cushions, and then the sound of footsteps. Soon after, Ric slips through the door and sits on the edge of the bed, leaning in over 'Star.

“Hey, big guy,” he greets him softly, with a smile. “What's up? I didn't wake you, did I?”

“I ate cookies and fell asleep on the couch. When did you get home? I did not awaken at all when you carried me to bed.” He scoots closer to Ric instinctively. “What time is it?”

“Uhh…” Ric thinks about it. “Like, one in the morning? One thirty? I dunno.” He leans in to kiss 'Star's forehead. “How were the cookies?”

“Good. I enjoy the ones in the blue tin. I left some for you if you would like them.” ‘Star yawns. The memory of his dream comes flooding back to him, brought on by the feeling of Ric’s lips touching his skin. “I dreamt about you.”

“Yeah?” Ric still has that smile on his face as he lifts his shirt over his head, letting it fall on the floor before he climbs into bed beside ‘Star, pulling the covers tight around himself. He curls in close; 'Star can feel the heat on his skin and the soft flannel fabric of his pyjama pants.

“Yes. We were dancing, just like in your dream. I don’t know where we were or why, but it was… surreal. You lead me down a large staircase in my pyjamas. Then, somehow, we were dressed in suits. What did you call them? Tuxedos.” ‘Star smiles at him a little. “That part was more realistic,” he decides. “Or at least it could be.”

Ric chuckles quietly, and then the sound fades on his lips. “You can't…” he starts, then sighs, shaking his head. “You can't joke about that,” he mumbles, leaning in close as if to initiate a kiss, like the physical closeness might take the weight off the topic somehow. “It gets to me too much. It's… I'm sorry.”

“I am not joking, but I understand,” ‘Star tells him. And he does, or maybe he’s trying to. “It is serious. I wouldn't make light of it. I just wanted to tell you what I was dreaming about.” He kisses Ric’s lips lightly, a ghost of a touch. “Last time, you told me not to stop. But I can,” he says carefully, “if you need me to.”

Ric stares down at him, imperceptible save for the words that weigh heavy on his tongue, ready to be spoken. He sighs like he's steeling himself for something, and some of the weight seems to lift. “I don't want you to stop,” he tells him, quiet the way he always is when he needs to be serious. “I just need you to go slow.”

“We can go as slow as you need.” He means it. “I just wanted to tell you I’ve been thinking about it. What you described to me in your dream the other night sounded… magical. Perhaps it just stuck with me more than you intended.”

Ric leans in to nuzzle against his neck. When he closes his eyes, his eyelashes tickle 'Star's skin. “Thought you'd think it was dumb,” he mumbles. He sounds unmistakably sleepy. “Unrealistic, or… frivolous, or something. Some big word like that.”

“Julio,” ‘Star admonishes him gently. “Why would I think something like that was unrealistic? So much of our life together is… magical. Perhaps there's more overlap than you realize.” He kisses the top of his head as Ric curls in closer.

“I dunno,” Ric admits. “Sometimes… sometimes you seem too good to be true. I try and be mindful of how good we got it,” he explains. “Y'know, take it day by day, think about it, be grateful for what I have in the present. I don't…” He falls quiet. 'Star waits patiently, attentively for him to continue. “I try not to daydream about what I could have someday,” he explains finally. “I'm just so lucky to have you now.”

“Living in the moment is good,” ‘Star agrees, staring into the warmth of Ric’s eyes. “Perhaps you are too pragmatic for this, but allowing yourself to believe in something more isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I would say I am lucky to have you as well, but it’s not luck. I love you more than I thought I could possibly love anything.” He was broken in so many ways when he first met Ric. It was his love that redeemed him, made him whole again. How could any of that possibly be luck? 

Ric stares right back at him, calm now, comfortable. “But don’t you feel a little bit lucky?” he asks. “I mean, think about it statistically - the fact that out of all of the people in this universe, and _your_ universe, and I guess every other universe that’s ever brushed up against this one,” he pauses, chewing at his lip, “the possibility that someone like me would meet someone like you and that everything would align so that we could stay together like this… doesn’t that seem almost impossible?” He shakes his head, pushing his hair back out of his face with one hand. “I dunno, man. All this multiverse time travel shit does my head in sometimes. I keep thinking about all the ways somethin’ could have gone wrong, how the smallest most insignificant thing could have thrown the whole deal out of whack… but it didn’t. You’re still here.” He reaches out, framing ‘Star’s face with his hand. “That feels pretty lucky to me.”

“I choose to think of it as sheer perseverance and strength of will.” ‘Star’s voice is quiet, just like everything else at the moment. “I think,” he says, “that no matter what forces try and pull us apart, what ghosts attempt to haunt us from our past or future or whatever the situation might be...” He reaches out to frame Ric’s face with his hand, a perfect mirror. “I will always be yours and you will always be mine. You are my heart.” 

He studies Ric’s face as that expression comes back, that awestruck look he wore the day they walked home from the supermarket in the snow, and the night that followed. He meets it with a smile.

“Do I need to go slow?” he asks him.

He sees Ric’s lips quirk in a smile to match his own. “No,” Ric says, inching forward to close the gap between them. “No, I think we’re good.”

\--

“I was wondering,” ‘Star says over dinner one night, “what happened to the painted ceramic Christmas tree?”

Ric freezes.

“I remember it being on the counter,” ‘Star continues, furrowing his brow in thought as he twirls noodles around his chopsticks. In the background, piano covers play over the low chatter of the other restaurant patrons. “But then last week when I went to switch on the lights, it was missing.” He sits up suddenly, startled. “Have we been robbed?”

Reluctantly, Ric looks up from where he was pointedly staring at the tablecloth, tracing the gold embroidered patterns over the cheap red satin. “No,” he answers, with a grimace. “I, uh… I broke it.” _Better be honest._ “On purpose,” he adds, apologetically. “That was the night I called my mom.” He reaches awkwardly for his drink, but doesn’t take a sip. “Sorry.”

“Oh.” ‘Star chooses his words carefully, but he can't hide the way his face falls. “It was a difficult time. I understand.” He takes a bite of his noodles and then looks contemplative for a moment. “Maybe it is alright to not have a tree in the house.”

The look on his face makes Ric’s heart clench with guilt. “No!” he says, a little too loudly. He glances at the tables around them, frowning at anyone who’s turned their head to gawk, and then lowers his voice to continue. “I mean, yeah, it’s alright,” he says, “but we can get a tree if you wanna. A real tree. I was kinda thinking we should go all out this year.” _Wrong._ Ric hates that stuff. It’s stupid, wasteful commercialism. But he saw the way ‘Star looked at the ornamental tree, and he knows that it means something to him. Something beyond what it means to everyone else on Earth who’s had twenty or so years to get sick of it all.

“We could go to one of those Christmas tree farms,” Ric continues. “I think there’s a bunch around, like, near the mountains and stuff? I’ve never been, but… y’know. It could be cool.”

“I think that you want to do Christmas things because I want to do Christmas things.” ‘Star isn’t accusatory, in fact he’s even smiling a little despite himself. He gives Ric a knowing glance across the bottle of soy sauce in the middle of the table. “It is sweet of you, but there is no need to partake in all of the holiday traditions. I truly only like the cookies, the lights on the trees, and… being with you.” 

“You just said you like the trees,” Ric accuses, pointing at ‘Star with his chopsticks. “Come on, man, don’t make me talk you into this. I’m tryin’ to do something nice for you.” 

“I understand that,” ‘Star says. He’s being coy, picking up a dumpling from their shared plate just to the left of where Ric is staring at him. “So if you would like to go to a Christmas tree farm and help me pick out a Christmas tree, I am not going to say no. I do hope you will let me repay you, however.” He raises his eyebrows just slightly. “Considering I know standing outside in the snow atop a mountain is not something you are going to enjoy.” 

Ric smiles at him across the table. “Maybe I’ll enjoy it with you.”

—

‘Star thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’s dreaming again.

Lost amid a flurry of slowly falling snowflakes that are illuminated by the glowing blue lights strung across the trees, ‘Star feels like he’s on another planet completely. It’s so far from the city, so lush and green and snow-covered that even the industrial crush of New York City cannot find them here. It’s like those dreams he keeps having, right down to Ric standing at his side.

“Wow,” Ric says. For once, he looks as dazzled by all of this as ‘Star is. “I mean… wow.” He has his gloved hand in ‘Star’s coat pocket, fingers intertwined with ‘Star’s own, and when ‘Star smiles at him he squeezes tight. “We should go for a walk,” Ric decides. “Do you wanna? We don’t have to pick the first tree we see. We can just… look for a while.”

“I think I would like that very much..” ‘Star is stopped in his tracks, though, boots sunk down in a generous amount of snow. He can only imagine it will get deeper the further they venture into the trees. “As long as we don’t get stuck. We will not get stuck in the snow, right?”

Ric turns to face him, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “Do you really think _I_ would let us get stuck in the in snow?” he points out. Then he glances ahead at the steady slope of the mountain at the edge of the pine trees. “Maybe try not to get too stuck, though,” he adds, as a quick afterthought. “I don't wanna, y'know, cause an avalanche and kill everyone on this side of the mountain.”

‘Star gives him a bit of a deadpan look for a moment. “It would be preferable if you didn't,” he agrees, and Ric snickers. 'Star takes a step forward, Ric’s hand still in his and sinks down again slightly. “I am uncertain if it is better or worse if _I_ am sinking down in the snow.” It shouldn’t be a problem considering how light he is.

“Don't stress about it, man,” Ric says, waving his hand. “It's not like it goes on forever. Like, there's only so far you can sink, right?”

He's right. Looking at them both, ‘Star supposes he doesn't have the worst of it. He's tall enough that the snow only comes around halfway up his calves, while Ric is almost in it to the knee. Still he trudges along, apparently intent on moving further into the trees, away from the scattering of other people in the grove.

‘Star walks carefully at first and then he finds his footing, pulling Ric along as they move further and further away from the large spotlights and into the trees. It’s dark enough that he can see the stars when he looks up. No light pollution eating away at everything. “We should get a house out here.”

“We're not doin’ that,” Ric chuckles, but his laugh falls quiet when he stops to think about it. “Maybe… maybe in a few years,” he poses, quieter, “if… y'know. If you still wanna.”

“We could hang up lights like this in the trees. Spend time just staring up at the stars…” He's staring now. “Funny,” he says. “Countless other galaxies, other universes, but here we are… right where we are supposed to be.” ‘Star exhales and watches as his breath puffs up and away.

Ric follows his gaze up to the sky. “It's nice being able to see the stars like that,” he agrees. “Living where we live… sometimes I forget they're even up there.”

'Star takes another deep breath of the cold air, shivering when it fills his lungs. He reaches his free hand up and traces a line of shining pinpricks as they go. He feels his eye flare just slightly in the dark, bioelectricity, blue and shining sparking on his hand. “Oh…”

Ric looks up at him, startled. “What was that?” he presses, hand settling subconsciously on 'Star's waist. “Did something happen?”

“Sometimes I think that the stars are...” He stops himself for fear of being too cryptic, but the way Ric looks at him tells him he can't leave it unsaid. “Sometimes I feel like the stars are part of me,” he explains.

“Like…” Ric is struggling to wrap his head around it, and 'Star doesn't blame him. He doesn't fully understand himself. “Like it's connected to your powers somehow? Like… like how _I'm_ connected to your powers?”

“Yes. Like all of the energy in the universe, the traces of electricity in the air and in the sky and in you…” He looks over at Ric suddenly, feeling the sparks tingling on his fingertips. “It is as if i take it all in, keep it inside of me until I need to use it. Our connection gives me strength. I know it does.” And sometimes it just manifests like this. In the quiet cold of the night in the middle of a forest. “Sometimes I think I fell through the universe just to find you.”

“Doesn't it scare you?” Ric blurts out, then looks guilty, like he's just let slip something he's been trying to keep to himself. “I mean… sometimes I still get… freaked out about my own powers. Is it the same for you? I mean, all that energy - electricity - what do you do if you already bottled it up too much?”

“I have someone who can ground me, when it all gets to be too much.” ‘Star feels it now thrumming inside of him, sparking along his veins, sizzling up his spine. He sees it on his fingertips but he isn’t scared. He doesn’t have to be. He touches Ric’s face with those same glowing blue fingers. He takes a breath and he feels the crackle of electricity as he pulls Ric close, sparking on his lips in the moment before they kiss.

\--

Ric feels it all course through him in one exhilarating rush. It makes him tingle all over, makes the hair stand up on his arms, makes him gasp into 'Star's mouth when their lips touch. It doesn't hurt. It just sings through his veins and down into the ground at his feet, all the strength of the current made harmless by his connection with the earth. Then it's gone and it's just him and 'Star, alone, together.

“I -” ‘Star sounds as though he's about to apologize for getting too swept up in the moment and then again for the really electrical spark between them, but he doesn’t. He shouldn’t. It’s special. “I love you.” He breathes it out, the taste of lightning still on his tongue.

Ric gazes up at him, arms still circled around his shoulders, and he has no plans to move. “I love you too,” he says. “I loved _that._ It made me feel -” He breaks off, searching for the words. “I dunno how to describe it. I was - I mean, I felt… I felt _you._ ” All over him, within him, moving through him like a pulse. 

“I suppose that in a way, our abilities are the purest distillation of our being.” Everything that makes them special, that connects them to each other. “I only have true control over my powers when I’m with you.” His fingers spark again and they haven’t strayed from Ric’s face. “Let me know if it is ever too much.”

Ric shakes his head. “Never,” he says. He can feel the static on 'Star's hands, tingling on his skin. The sensation that lingers after what they just did has him feeling elated, almost like a high. He feels reckless. He feels so many things. Turning his head, he parts his lips to take 'Star's fingers into his mouth, feeling that static on his tongue.

The raw feeling of electricity pulses through ‘Star again and he feels the whole world go blue around them for a moment, particles of light stuck where the snow is falling. Ric sucks on his fingers and he gasps, breath catching in his throat. 

Ric draws back, taking ‘Star’s hand in his own and looking up at him, curious and concerned. “Does it hurt?” he asks. “It doesn’t hurt me.”

“It does not hurt.” ‘Star swallows hard, coming back to himself suddenly. “It it just - I have never felt these sensations so strongly.”

Slowly, Ric moves ‘Star’s hand back to his face, closing his eyes and soaking in the feeling when ‘Star traces his lips with his fingertips. “Then I hope it feels as good for you as it does for me,” he mumbles.

“This is distinctly not picking out a Christmas tree.” ‘Star smiles at him, eyes still glinting in the half-dark. “Unless you really asked me up here to get me alone in the middle of the forest.”

“Don't make it sound creepy,” Ric chuckles. “No plans, no ulterior motives,” he says. “Promise. It's just…” He looks up again. “We should get out of the city more often. Maybe when it's not so cold.”

“It’s not creepy,” ‘Star assures him. “And I agree, we should spend some time up here. They have cabins to rent or homes to stay in. It sounds idyllic - just you and I and all of this.” Ric is still gazing up at the sky, and when he looks back, he finds that ‘Star is gazing at him in much the same way.

“I'll book something for next year,” Ric finds himself promising. “For when the weather gets warmer. We could… I dunno, hike or go swimming or something. Sit out on the porch and watch the sun set.”

‘Star is smiling again and Ric can still feel the energy radiating from him, the adrenaline and spark from his powers and the warmth of the love that runs beneath it. It takes the edge off the cold when the wind blows around them. “In all our time together, I do not think I have ever seen you go on a hike. At least not on purpose,” he adds, with a chuckle. “Unless you count the time we found that mesa just south of Camp Verde and watched the sun set.” They we just friends back then, but it had always been something more.

“Why wouldn't you count that?” Ric protests. His expression softens as he thinks about it. “I remember that,” he says, a smile playing on his lips. “I remember lookin’ at you while you weren't lookin’. Remember the way the sunlight looked on your hair, back when you had it long like that.” He reaches up to run his fingers through it again. “I was thinkin’... I'm so in love with this guy and I gotta tell someone. Anyone else would wanna tell their best friend, but you were my best friend too.” He grins. “You still are.”

“Julio,” ‘Star tightens his grip on him, lips curled into a smile he almost can’t contain. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Not to mention my winning personality and great sense of humor.” Ric sounds deadpan, but he gives himself away when he tucks his head under 'Star's chin, hiding his face. “You're gonna make me blush,” he murmurs, nudging ‘Star’s collar aside to kiss his neck. “I think you're doing it on purpose,” he continues. “Hearin’ you say stuff like that drives me crazy. I mean, I get all flustered and overwhelmed, and my face gets hot, and I feel like I could just - I could just fall into your arms, and hold on, and stay there forever.” Ric's hands move down from 'Star's shoulders to his back, stopping at the inward curve of his waist and then taking hold of his belt loops. “You know I'm gonna be all over you tonight,” he adds, lowering his voice. “All night. I can't keep my hands off you - not when you're sayin’ stuff like that.”

“You can stay here forever,” ‘Star tells him, holding him even tighter, tight enough that he knows he’d be welcome to stay. “Not here in the snow, but _here_. With me. And as you stated before, I’m simply telling you the truth. Letting you know exactly how I feel. If I happen to get something back in return… well, I am certainly not going to say no.”

“Oh, you're gonna get something, alright,” Ric murmurs into his ear, nuzzling at his neck and kissing his skin with hot, eager lips. “I'd let you get it right here if it wasn't so fuckin’ cold out.”

‘Star’s deep laugh turns into a giggle as Ric’s lips continue their path upward. “Julio, there are trees present. We must think of them.” He takes hold of Ric’s hips and pulls him back just slightly. He can see his blush now, the way his eyes gleam in the light. He can’t stop staring.

“Maybe,” Ric concedes, “but you’re makin’ it kinda hard to think of anything but you.” He sways in ‘Star’s grip, trying to push closer to him, and he senses ‘Star’s reluctance when he keeps him an inch or two away. “But you’re right,” he says. “We should probably get outta here first.”

“We still need to pick a tree,” ‘Star reminds him. It’s darker here, but he can still see the lights from the front of the forest blinking at them, where people are still milling around. “It is just so beautiful out here. All of the trees are perfect.” Perfect and quiet, peaceful and unassuming.

“Yeah,” Ric agrees. Slowly, he steps away from him again, moving to his side and holding his hand. They keep walking along through the rows, boots leaving deep footprints in the fresh white snow. They’re headed back towards the entrance, where the lights are brighter and the faint sound of conversation is starting to reach them.

“You know,” Ric says offhandedly, “it’s kind of a bummer when you think about it. Like, look at them.” He waves his hand in the general direction of a row of tall, proud pines. “Kinda messed up that they grow ‘em all like that just to cut them down.”

The sound of ‘Star’s boots in the snow turns silent. Ric looks back at him in time to see his expression turn from mild concern to unconcealed, absolute horror. His mind races, playing back the words of his last sentence, and his heart sinks.

“Oh,” Ric mumbles. “Oh shit, dude, I didn’t mean…” His grip tightens on ‘Star’s hand, tight enough to shake him out of his silence.

‘Star’s eyes are fixed on the rows of pines, wide, like those of an animal caught in the headlights. He blinks once, hard, and then again, and though he tilts his chin up, he can’t help the hopelessness in the downward tilt of the corners of his mouth.

“I don’t think I want a tree anymore,” he mumbles. His voice is quiet and cold.

“Hey,” Ric says urgently, tugging at his hand. “We don’t have to get one. Nobody says it’s gotta be one of these trees.” He steps in front of him, as though his very presence in between ‘Star and the trees might shield him somehow from the thought. It almost works. “Let’s get out of here.”

‘Star nods shakily. “Please,” he says. He glances over Ric’s shoulder, past the trees and down the slope to where the bus dropped them off.

Ric takes his other hand in his own and holds on tight. “Don’t worry about that,” he says. “Take us straight outta here, if you want to.” 

Visibly relieved, ‘Star nods again. He takes a breath and closes his eyes to focus. Without being asked, Ric thinks of home. ‘Star’s powers flare to life, sending sparks of electricity between them until they are awash in bright white light. From the lower end of the slope, Ric hears shouts of surprise and gasps of awe, but in a blink, the noise fades into silence.

They’re back in the quiet of their apartment. He pulls ‘Star into his arms before the light even has time to fade.


	4. Chapter 4

Ric arranges to meet Jean Grey at a cafe a few blocks from their apartment. It's 'Star's second favourite brunch place, and Ric feels kind of guilty for going there without him, but this isn't just a catch-up. He has a mission.

He also really wants to talk to Jean again, so maybe it is a catch-up as well. He was trying to impress her, picking out a nice place to go and planning on paying for the both of them, but the effect is weakened somewhat by the fact that she gets there fifteen minutes earlier than he does, already sitting in the corner booth with a chai latte and a welcoming smile.

“Sorry,” she says, before he can say anything. “I know you wanted to be the gentleman, but I've got money. I don't want anyone buying a nine dollar drink for me.”

“But…” Ric starts, then shakes his head. “You read my mind?”

She shakes her head. “No,” she says. “You're just predictable. I remember you were always trying to do things for other people, even when you were a teenager.”

Ric slides into the seat opposite her, setting his bag down next to him. “I don't really get accused of being selfless very often,” he comments. “Or, like, at all.”

Her eyes flick over his face, reading him without even reaching into his mind. “But here you are anyway, right?”

“Here I am,” Ric says. He glances over to the counter, where one of the employees is waving at him; he waves back, and nods when she holds up one of the large glasses in which the iced lattes he orders are usually served. Then he turns back to Jean.

“So, uh, how did the school dance go? I mean, I didn't wreck it for anyone, did I?” he asks. “I'm worried Tabs and me might have been too strict.”

“It was great,” she smiles at him again. Ric almost feels like she hasn’t stopped smiling since he walked through the front door. “Thank you for showing up, by the way. I know it wasn’t the most exciting thing you could have been doing, but it meant a lot. As for being too strict…” She laughs a little. “Half of the students seem like they are trying to grow up too fast. I think having some strict dance rules might have made them feel like they are actually kids.”

“Maybe,” Ric says. “I kept thinkin’ back to the time they tried to send Tabs and me and the gang to boarding school, and how much I hated it, and how much I hated everyone around us for treating us like kids after everything we'd been through.” The memory makes him chuckle, half amused and half sad. “Then we fell in with Cable's crew, and…” He trails off. “Yeah, I guess it's better to give them that chance. Let 'em go to dances and get yelled at for breaking curfew. Guess that stuff's more important than people realize.”

“Everyone grows up differently,” Jean clarifies. “I just want to make sure the kids under our care have chances to just… live their lives. I probably sound old fashioned or something. Sometimes I see how the world has changed since I’ve been gone and wonder if anything I do is ever really going to make a difference.” Jean takes a moment to stir her spoon in her latte. “But I guess it doesn’t matter if we believe we can fix things. We still have to try.”

Ric looks at her, aware of the barely suppressed smile on his face. “I guess I don't need to tell you that I'm still not thinkin' of joining the X-Men anytime soon,” he says. “You're right - everyone grows up differently. It's still not really my scene.” He sits back when the waiter brings his coffee to the table, leaning back in once she walks away. “Forgive me for speakin’ ill of the maybe-dead, but Xavier always had an agenda,” he says. “It wasn't really about changing the world, it was about PR and respectability politics and makin’ sure we got a good reputation. It never really sat well with me. But that - what you just said?” He smiles. “I'm on board with that. With trying. So I'm here if you ever need me,” he tells her. “Not for the X-Men. For you.”

“I almost forgot,” Jean says, with a wry kind of smile. “Your real superpower is brutal honesty. But... thank you.” She thinks on her next words, diplomatic where Ric doesn’t care to be. “Charles never knew what he wanted. Maybe it’s just because I was gone a while - you know, because I caught up on everything at once instead of living it day-to-day - but sometimes it seems like everything took a turn faster than any of us could stop it. Too much pressure, maybe. Too much going on. Too many people thinking they knew how to fix it on their own without talking it over.” She shakes her head before she tucks a lock of fire-red hair behind her ear. “I guess I’m not immune to that either,” she muses, and then shrugs. “Ignore me,” she says. “I’m just thinking out loud. Let’s talk about something less doom-and-gloom.” She sounds almost desperate to shift the topic, and Ric can’t really blame her. “What have you been doing? I want to hear all about it.”

“Man,” Ric says, exhaling as he bites his lip. “Where do I even start? God, I think the last time I really spoke to you was back when we were doing X-Corp.” It feels like a decade ago, even if it was only a few years. “I guess you've probably heard most of it second hand,” he says. “'Star and me are a thing now… like, officially, obviously. We've got an apartment, it's kinda around the corner.” He gestures vaguely towards the street. “Uh, I've been in between teams… we did some stuff for Madrox, then Shan and Illyana… that was kind of a mess. Couple of odd jobs in between, but… I guess I'm still kinda trying to find my niche.”

Jean nods. “Shatterstar seems like he’s… calmed down a bit from the last time I saw him. I guess that didn’t happen as suddenly as it seems from my point of view.” She smiles around her mug when she brings it up to take a drink. “But you’re happy? Even if you’re still trying to - what did you say? - find your niche?” She sounds hopeful. That’s one of the best things about her, Ric thinks. That hope.

“Yeah,” Ric says. “I mean, yeah he's calmed down - I think we've both calmed down - and yeah, I'm happy.” It still feels so strange to him to say that and mean it, but it's true. “So what about you? It can't be easy trying to catch up with everything after so much time… away.”

“You can say it, you know,” Jean says. “You can say I was dead. It’s not like it’s a sensitive topic.”

“Sure,” Ric says quickly. “Maybe not for you. Still kinda freaks me out, though,” he admits. “Is that bad?”

“I’d be worried if it didn’t,” Jean points out. Her smile slips a little when she returns to the subject at hand. “It’s still exhausting living crisis to crisis,” she explains, “but it’s easier now. Without...” She pauses, weighing her words carefully. “Other people’s expectations.”

Ric thinks he understands. 

“I get it,” he says. “I think. I mean… you got the entire world expecting stuff from you. You don't really need anyone to add to that.” Then he feels a little guilty. “I, uh… I do have to ask you for something, though. A favor.”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I can help you with it. Shoot.”

“Just like that?” Ric asks. “You don't even know what I'm gonna ask for.”

She shakes her head, mouth poised as if to laugh. “I don’t know what you’re going to ask for, but whatever it is, I know it’s not for you.”

He blinks at her, startled. “How -”

The laugh follows, short and exasperated but nonetheless affectionate. “You never ask for help,” Jean says. “So it can’t be about you. Right?”

“Right,” Ric says. He's taken aback, but he tries to pull himself together quickly. “You read my mind, though, didn't you?”

“A little,” Jean admits sheepishly. “Sorry. I'm not looking on purpose, but it's hard not to catch glimpses.” He wishes he could tell her that he doesn't mind, that the fact that she tries not to pry means enough to him and that honestly, he finds it easier than coming forward with his feelings anyway. He supposes she already knows.

“So it's for ‘Star,” he says out loud anyway. “I was thinkin’ about how it's Christmas, and he doesn't really have a family, and then I was thinkin’... what if he did? I mean, he does,” he explains. “Daz- I mean, Alison is out there somewhere. I don't really know her very well, but… wouldn't she wanna know that her son is alive? Wouldn't she wanna meet him?”

Jean is quiet for a moment, thoughtful. “If Alison doesn’t know that’s an awfully big thing to drop on someone.” She’s speaking to herself almost, like she’s trying to reason it out. “That’s sweet of you,” she says. The mental leap startles him, but she’s quick to explain. “Wanting to give Shatterstar the family he deserves. I can’t tell you how to approach this, but I can tell you where she is if that’s what you’re asking.”

Ric thinks on it. “Kind of,” he says. “Yeah. But I guess I also wanna know if you think I’m doing the right thing.” He doesn’t really know who else he would ask. ‘I mean, I think ‘Star would wanna know her. I don’t know if she would wanna know ‘Star. Don’t get me wrong,” he adds quickly, “he’s a great guy. The greatest. But as far as I know, she knows nothing about it. If she does, then all she knows is that she lost the kid. I guess I’m worried that finding out might bring all that hurt back,” he explains. “And I don’t wanna cause her that kind of pain, or any kind of pain. So I guess I’m asking you, y’know, as a woman, as a mom… uh, kinda… what do you think she would want?”

“That’s a hard question to answer,” Jean says. She chews at her lip, clearly contemplating the answer just as carefully as Ric has been. “I’m not as close to Alison as I’d like to be. We’ve got the X-Men in common, but our circumstances are pretty different. Still...” She leans on the table, shifting a little closer to Ric. “Let me think.” He waits, giving her time to figure out their common ground. “I was more than a little unsettled to learn about Rachel, less so with Nathan, but that was never about them. It was about feeling like so much of my life was predetermined. Mandated, almost. And finding out was a shock,” she admits. “Both of them are wonderful people and I’m glad I’ve gotten time with them,” she adds, and he believes her. “Talking to them helped - knowing them as people instead of abstract concepts in my maybe-inevitable future.” She shakes her head at the absurdity of it all, and continues on a serious note. 

“Alison has always seemed... a little lost. Never let herself get tied down by anything, never wanted to. I respect that,” Jean explains, “but being tied down is different to having a sense of stability. That’s the thing that’s important. So… maybe knowing that she has a son might give her some comfort. Plus, I think she deserves to know.” She sighs, facing the unavoidable catch. “You just can’t expect that it won’t hurt too.”

Ric nods, feeling some of his worries slide into the back of his mind, and new ones creeping up to take their place. In his heart, he always knew it wouldn’t be easy. Jean’s answer is the closest to certainty that he’s ever going to get.

“Thank you,” he says. “And I guess at the end of the day it’s up to ‘Star, y’know, whether he wants to talk to her or not. I think… I think I wanna give him that choice, though.” Saying it makes him more certain. “So… where is she? Or, I mean, do you have a phone number or an email address or somethin’ for her?”

“As of about a week ago, she’s been staying at a house owned by the Xavier trust. I think she was trying to get her career back on track and then, well… Alex Summers dragged her into some things.” Jean pulls a face. “I told her she could stay as long as she needed to. If the both of you decide to come over, let me know. I’ll try and be there to lend some moral support.”

“Are you sure?” Ric asks. “Don’t feel pressured. You’ve already done heaps. Plus, I don’t wanna make a big thing about it. I just… I don’t know how it’s gonna go.” He’s not sure what he’s saying.

“I don’t feel pressured. This seems like the kind of thing you might need a friend for.” She looks at him. “Are we friends?”

Ric meets her eyes, surprised by the question. “Sure,” he says. It strikes him as unexpected that she would even have to ask - doesn’t everyone want to be friends with Jean Grey? - but then he realizes he’s being dumb. Everyone has flaws, insecurities. He guesses the fact that he’s being let in on the secret proves the statement, proves that they are friends after all.

“Okay,” Jean says. She follows it with the tiniest nod, as though she’s trying to reassure herself, to shake the thought into her own head. “Just remember you don’t always have to carry it all on your shoulders, Julio. People care about you. You can always ask for help.”

“I’m not carrying it all,” Ric protests. “I’m, like, an awkward bystander at the most.” He checks himself, reminds himself that he doesn’t need to be defensive. “But… thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” Jean says. “Hey, can I ask something?”

“Sure,” Ric says.

“What’s up with the plant?”

Ric looks over at the potted peace lily in the bag sitting next to him on the seat, its dark green leaves and budding white flowers standing tall over the table.

“It’s a gift,” he says. “Kinda. It’s… a long story.”

—

‘Star is beginning to realize why so many people complain about holiday shopping. It’s not because of the lights, or the decorations, or even the carols that play over the store speakers. it’s because of the crush of human beings all taking up the same space. Despite the fact that this is supposed to be the season of giving, it’s this part that seems to bring out the worst in people. The hypocrisy of it troubles him, the passive aggression. He prefers things straightforward. On Earth, he tries very hard to resolve things through discussion instead of through violence. He doesn’t understand why these people can’t try too. Sure, he’s still a work in progress, but at least he never ran into anyone with a shopping cart on purpose before. He can’t say as much for them.

He’s relieved to be home, bag of gifts in tow, and even more relieved to find that Ric is home too. He’s so excited to see him that he almost forgets about the shopping bags in his hands, full, mostly, with presents for Ric. Before Ric can turn to look at him, he quickly carries the bags into their room and carefully slides them under the bed, resolving to find a better hiding place later on.

“Hey,” Ric calls after him from the living room, confused. “Where’d you run off to, huh?” He sounds affronted, but apparently not enough to warrant leaving his spot on the couch. “Come back, man. I got something I wanna show you.”

“I just had to put something away,” ‘Star calls back out to him before he steps back into the living room, shrugging out of his coat and unwinding his scarf. He smiles at Ric, and then the glow of lights pull his eyes away. Sitting in the once empty corner is a potted plant, colored lights wrapped around its base and silver garland draped gently around its vibrant green leaves. ‘Star thinks it’s the most beautiful Christmas tree he’s ever seen. 

“Julio…” He doesn’t know what else to say.

“It’s dumb,” Ric says. “I know. I just thought… I know you really liked that weird little ornament, and that you liked lookin’ at other people’s trees even though we weren’t gonna get one of our own, so…” He glances over at the tree. “I dunno. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

‘Star makes his way over to the couch and picks Ric up from his spot to pull him into a hug. It’s crushing and warm and full of all the feelings he doesn’t have words for. He stays there for minutes, sharing his warmth. ‘Star nuzzles in against Ric’s neck, feeling the soft wool of his sweater and the tickle of the stubble on his jaw. He breathes in Ric’s own familiar scent and the honey smell that lingers on his hair after he washes it. It smells like home.

“So…” Ric is still in his arms when he speaks up, and ‘Star can only imagine the sly expression on his face. “You like it, huh?”

“I love it,” ‘Star mumbles against his skin. “Julio, you’re sweet. You don’t want anyone to know how sweet you are, but you can’t hide it from me.”

“Uh…” Ric hums. “Yeah, I told, like, six other people I was gonna surprise you with this. I ain’t hiding shit.” He chuckles once ‘Star loosens his grip enough for him to draw a full breath. He ends up standing on the couch, eye-level with ‘Star and smiling.

“Well, they didn’t tell me. I suppose you got your surprise.” ‘Star shakes his head, and he doesn’t bother to stop himself from smiling back, grinning like a fool. His eyes feel a little wet, but he’s trying to keep his emotions tamped down just a little.

He’s not fooling Ric. “Hey,” he says, tilting ‘Star’s chin up. “No crying on Christmas.” He kisses him quickly, the touch almost making ‘Star want to cry more. “Come sit down, man. Tell me about your day. Do you want a drink? Should we watch a movie?”

‘Star takes a shaky breath before slowly unwrapping himself from Ric and sitting down next to him. He’s still watching him closely when he readjusts. “A woman ran into me with her shopping cart at the store on purpose,” he informs Ric, laughing a little at the memory. It already feels so distant, so insignificant. “I think she thought she was going to dissuade me from getting what I wanted.”

“Seriously?” Ric asks. “You’re a lot less angry about that than I thought you would be. Or… at least less angry than _I_ would be,” he adds, after thinking about it. “You sure you don’t want a drink?” he asks, already in the process of lounging back with his legs over ‘Star’s lap. ‘Star shakes his head no. 

“You would have flipped the woman’s cart over,” ‘Star laughs. “Especially because she did it on purpose.” He can see it now. “You are quite attractive when you’re angry,” he adds. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”

“Uh-huh,” Ric deadpans. “And I didn’t hear it from you the last ten times, either.”

“Are you saying I’m predictable? Because I resent that.” ‘Star narrows his eyes, but he’s still smiling.

“You know, I got told the same thing just this morning,” Ric says. “But it was by a psychic, so it doesn't really count. I guess everyone's predictable if you know what they're thinking.”

“So that is where you were this morning. Getting your mind read by a psychic. Seems unlike you.” ‘Star idly rubs at Ric’s calves, working out any knots he finds in the muscles. 

“Mmm,” Ric purrs, visibly relaxing as 'Star massages his legs. “Wait, what? Oh, no, it wasn't on purpose. Just kinda incidental. I was - that feels really good, keep going - I was just catching up with an old friend.”

“That sounds nice. I know you went to the cafe on Pacific. I can smell the chai you did not drink,” ‘Star says and he continues to rub Ric’s legs. “Did you at least bring me a rice krispie treat?” He spells the word in his mind as he says it - _k-r-i-s-p-i-e_. An odd detail, but important enough somehow that his brain has latched onto it.

The corners of Ric's mouth quirk up in a knowing smile. “I got you two,” he says. “They're in the fridge.” He sinks back against the side of the couch, folding his arms behind his head. “So what were you sayin’ about being predictable?”

‘Star doesn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes. “It was only natural for me to ask. They have the best ones, outside of making them ourselves.” He smooths his hands down the back of Ric’s legs. “I will admit I would have been fairly disappointed had you not brought them.” He’s joking, of course, but then again perhaps not.

Ric’s smile turns into a grin. “When have I ever let you down?”

“Never,” ‘Star responds easily, leaning close and pressing a quick kiss to the side of Ric’s mouth. “What do you want to do tonight? Just sit? Watch a movie?”

“Yeah,” Ric says. There’s a glint in his eyes that reads as expectant, anticipatory. “For now.” ‘Star moves to kiss his cheek again and Ric turns his head to kiss him properly, hands clutching his face unexpectedly tight as he licks messily into his mouth. He lies back and pulls ‘Star on top of him, legs slipping easily around ‘Star’s waist, arms around his shoulders.

‘Star almost gasps into Ric’s mouth, expecting the kiss but not expecting the ferocity that lies underneath. “You never let up, do you?” He takes a deep breath when he pulls back. “I knew you weren’t going to be satisfied with just a kiss.”

“Shut up,” Ric mumbles, leaning in to steal another quick kiss. “Don’t read too much into it. Sometimes you just wanna make out with someone, you know?” His hands are in ‘Star’s hair, fingers running through it, messing it up on purpose. “You can put the movie on, if you want to,” he says. “I don’t mind. I’m sure it won’t take me long to distract you from it.”

“Is that so? Maybe I can get you to ogle John McClane instead of me.” ‘Star raises an eyebrow as he reaches around Ric for the remote. “Perhaps that might work to get _you_ distracted.”

Ric chuckles, embarrassed. “Maybe,” he admits. “Bruce Willis could get it, but he’s still got nothin’ on you.” He does his best to get in ‘Star’s way, almost climbing around him, trying to catch his hand as he reaches for the remote and kissing it once he does. “Am I tiring you out?”

‘Star lunges for the remote and grabs Ric’s other hand, pulling him close. “Never,” he says. With Ric restrained, he points the remote at the TV, navigating through the Netflix menu while Ric squirms under him. He presses play on the movie, but he already knows they won’t be paying much attention to it. He drops the remote and rolls Ric onto his back, straddling him and pinning him to the couch with his arms over his head. “Congratulations,” he tells him, smirking down at him. “You have me distracted. So… yippee-ki-yay.”

Ric is laughing too hard for ‘Star to kiss him properly, but he tries anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

‘Star has never been known to fidget, but right now he feels like he can’t stop. He’s pulled his sweater down and then up and then down again too many times to count. He doesn’t know which way looks best and he’s fairly certain that no matter how he wears it it’s not going to be right, and that’s the least of his worries. It’s not every Christmas you aim to tell your mother that you exist. If ‘Star is honest, at the moment he almost wishes he didn’t. 

But it’s been weighing on his mind for too long. Rictor went to so much trouble to arrange this, and now they are here, with only the front door and the wreath hanging on it separating him from the truth he’s avoided for over a year now.

He voices the question that’s been weighing on his mind since they left home.

“Would you be angry with me if I said I do not think I can do this?”

Ric looks up at him, surprised. “No,” he says. There's a strange look on his face, something 'Star takes a moment to recognize as nervousness. “Man, _I_ don't know if I can do this and it's not even my business. I'm so anxious I almost feel like I'm gonna be sick.”

His candor surprises 'Star. Usually he'd put on a brave face, try to stay strong for 'Star to make him feel like it's okay. Somehow, though, his honesty is just as reassuring. This is, as Rictor would put it, a big deal. He's allowed to be nervous.

“How would I even begin to tell her what I’ve done…” ‘Star feels a sudden flood of guilt, a rush of some sour feeling that tries to rise in the back of his throat. Timeline at stake or not, he can’t imagine how Alison could ever begin to forgive him for what happened, much less accept him as her son.

“Hey,” Ric says urgently, reaching up to take hold of his shoulders. “No. You didn't - I mean, we _did_ , but we had to. Who knows what would've happened to us if we didn't? Who knows what would've happened to _her_?”

The way Ric’s voice sounds shakes him out of his own thoughts, stops the crush of guilt before it has a chance to swallow him whole. He’s right. Everything they know to be true about their timeline was at stake. The alternative was unthinkable. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking as if there was ever another choice.” 

“Right,” Ric says, with a nod that seems to steel his own resolve. “You got a choice now, though.”

'Star tilts his head.

“You don't have to tell her,” Ric says. It feels as though he's being given permission.

“But…” 'Star worries his lip, glancing at the door. “You went to all the trouble of asking around, trying to find her. You did this for me - a favor.”

“Sure,” Ric says. “But you're not, like, obligated to take me up on it.”

'Star hesitates. “We're already here.”

“We can still leave,” Ric says gently. “There's no pressure, dude. No rules. You decide whether you're ready, or whether we just -”

The door opens.

‘Star glances up quickly, feeling like he’s been caught in the middle of something he shouldn’t have been doing. When he sees Alison, his heart gets caught in his throat. He tries to remember the fact that he’s supposed to be fearless.

“Oh!” She seems startled by their arrival, like she wasn’t sure who to expect at the door. ‘Star feels like he can’t stop staring at her. Her hair is cut short and its previous platinum color seems to have faded into a more natural strawberry blonde, much like ‘Star’s own. He’s never noticed how similar they look until this very moment. “Rictor and Shatterstar, right? We’ve met a few times before.”

'Star is frozen in place. His throat feels tight, like he can't force out even a sound. He can feel his heart racing, hears his pulse rush in his ears. He's going to faint, he thinks. He's going to faint, or run away, or… he doesn't know.

Ric's voice snaps him out of his anxious spiral.

“I hope we're not, like, imposing,” he tells her. His smile is nervous but genuine, and ‘Star watches as Alison smiles in return, just as sincere.

“No, not at all,” she says. “Jean told me you might be stopping by.” Then she looks startled. “Oh! Oh shit, it's cold out there. How long have you been waiting?” She steps aside, beckoning them into the house. “Come - come in. I think there's some room on the couch, or… maybe there's some pillows somewhere for the floor…”

“Are you sure?” Ric asks. “We didn't wanna just spring this on you, but -”

“No, no,” Alison reassures them. “It’s totally fine. The more the merrier, right? Come on.”

‘Star looks at Ric who is still looking at Alison before he nods and forces out the first words he can manage since the door opened. “Thank you.”

Looking in, the house is far most spacious than he would have thought from the outside. He can already hear voices echoing down the hall from the kitchen and living room and suddenly ‘Star feels warm inside as well as out. The atmosphere is just like he imagined some sort of family gathering might be. It’s homely, but he feels odd and out of place, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to cross the threshold.

Ric nudges him through the door and steps in after him.

“You can put your coats in the closet over there.” The closet Alison gestures to is already overflowing with coats. “Or I think there’s space on the bed in the guest room if you want.”

“Sure,” Ric says. “Closet. We'll do that.” The nervous edge is back in his voice. 'Star thinks of all the Hollywood movies he's watched, all the dramas and romantic comedies with scenes wherein a character meets their spouse's parents. This is eerily the same, the awkward exchange of words at the door and Ric's anxious eagerness to make a good impression. Despite his own anxiety, 'Star can't help but smile.

Once they're inside, Alison closes the door behind them. “We're all just in the living room,” she says. He can see them through the doorway at the end of the hall, Jean and Jubilee and some others. Alison goes on ahead, and ‘Star might have just stayed in the doorway staring if it weren't for Ric reaching up to help him with his coat.

He pulls 'Star slightly to the side once she's out of earshot, leaning in to speak to him in a low tone. “This is gonna be fine,” he tells him, serious and quiet, “and they're all good people, but dude - don't freak out. We can leave whenever you want to. I'll make up an excuse and we'll get outta here. All you need to do is say the word.”

“It’s fine. I am just…” He struggles to find the word, to tell Ric exactly how he’s feeling. He wants to stay. He wants that more than anything else in the world. 

“Just give me a few moments.” ‘Star slips off his coat, hands it to Ric and pulls down his sweater for what maybe is the fifth time in a few hours. He takes a breath and watches as Ric dutifully hangs up their coats, and then he offers him a hand before walking further into the house. 

Ric takes his hand. He doesn't let go even at the end of the hallway.

They step into the living room.

'Star recognizes the faces - Jean on the couch next to Alison, Jubilee sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching as her infant son stares transfixed at a video on her phone, Rogue sitting in the armchair and Gambit perched beside her on its arm, and Psylocke lounging on a low couch beneath the window. She's reading a book, but she looks up for long enough to wave at them.

Again, he doesn’t know what to say. Some part of him feels like he’s intruding on some private moment that he was not supposed to be involved in. Another part, the more sensible one, tells him they wouldn’t have been invited in if Alison didn’t want them here. He still feels Ric’s hand warm in his. “Merry Christmas, everyone.”

He's greeted by a chorus of responses, from Rogue and Remy's loud replies (he thinks they've been drinking) to the sound of Jubilee's son trying (but not quite succeeding) to pronounce the words. Jean beckons for them to sit down and before he can offer to do otherwise, Ric nudges him into the spot on the couch beside Alison and then settles on the floor by his feet.

“Do you…” He hesitates with the words for a moment as he looks at Alison. “Do you have parties like this often?” It feels like a stupid thing to ask, but he’s asking it all the same.

“For the holidays?” she asks. Then: “No,” she admits, “not really. To be honest, I don’t really celebrate Christmas. It always felt like a family thing, and things between me and my family are…” She searches for a word. “Complex. But this year is… Jean found me this house, and I don’t remember the last time I spent the holidays in anything other than a one-room apartment, so I figured it would be better with people around.” Then she smiles, as if to say that she was right; that it is better not to spend the holidays alone.

“Sometimes…” ‘Star tries to conjure up the courage to tell her something, anything, but he can’t quite get there. He comes close, though. “Sometimes family is not as far away as you think it is.” ‘Star swallows hard, averting his eyes. He doesn’t want to stare, doesn’t want to be asked why he’s staring. He sneaks a glance, though. She’s beautiful and he feels his heart squeeze tight in his chest. Suddenly he glances down at Ric who’s looking at him from his spot on the floor. His face says everything. “Sometimes it’s just the people you choose to surround yourself with.” He doesn’t have to tell her and he won’t. At least not today.

Ric leans in over him, folding his arms over ‘Star’s knees and resting his head on them. “Isn’t he cute?” he asks. ‘Star recognizes it as a rhetorical question even before Ric laughs about it, and Alison laughs too. ‘Star’s noticed that about Ric’s laugh before - it’s infectious. When you hear it, it’s almost impossible not to join in. “So Jean just set you up with this place, huh? Damn. Maybe there are some benefits to being an X-Man.”

It prompts a laugh, so ‘Star continues in the vein of Ric’s sense of humor. “If we knew we might have gotten a house out of it, maybe we would have tried to be more _upstanding_ mutants.”

He hears Psylocke almost scoff from the other side of the room. “Upstanding? Oh please,” she teases. “As if any of us would be allowed in the X-Mansion If Jean weren’t in charge.” 

“I resent that,” Jubilee calls from the floor.

“What do you mean, allowed in the X-Mansion?” Remy chimes in from the armchair. “Remy just comes and goes as he pleases.”

Jean fixes him with a look. “Remy shouldn’t,” she says.

He lifts his hands up, trying to look innocent. “I said nothing.”

‘Star finds himself smiling. Maybe it doesn’t feel like family - not yet - but he’s happy here. He thinks he could stay.

\--

Ric pulls him aside again about half an hour in, catching him on the way back from the bathroom. He offers him an out - tells him that if he wants to leave, he’ll just tell Alison that they’ve got another friend to catch up with before Christmas, and they’d better not keep them waiting. He knows that ‘Star doesn’t like to lie, but he has no problem doing it for him.

‘Star doesn’t take him up on it, though. Not because he doesn’t want to make excuses (or have Ric make excuses for him), but because he genuinely seems to be enjoying himself.

Ric isn’t having such a bad time either. This party isn’t really his scene, but Rogue snuck him a shot or two of whiskey from the kitchen and now, leaning against the doorframe with a mug of generously spiked hot chocolate in hand, he’s happy just watching everyone talk.

Watching ‘Star, really. He’s deep in conversation with Alison. He’s been talking to her for the past hour or so. He’s animated, not awkward. He seems comfortable. Ric doesn’t think the resemblance is immediate - his features are sharp while hers are soft, and he towers over her like he does with everyone - but when one of them laughs, their smiles are a perfect mirror. 

Later on Ric joins them, squeezing onto the couch by ‘Star’s side, their thighs pressed close together, feeling his warmth whenever he leans past him to speak to Alison or Jean.

He still hasn’t told her, and Ric isn’t about to pressure him into it. He didn’t bring ‘Star here so he could tell. He wanted ‘Star to find his family. As far as he’s concerned, he’s found it here.


End file.
